


Snowflakes and Shadow Crowns

by Feran_Sensei



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Betrayal, Choosing Sides, Complicated Relationships, Confusion, Darkness, Difficult Decisions, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Heartache, I Don't Even Know, Light Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possible Character Death, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 16:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 25,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7580803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feran_Sensei/pseuds/Feran_Sensei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Guardians have conquered the Nightmare King and sent him back to the shadows from whence he came, but Jack can't help but wonder: What happens next?</p><p>Perhaps entirely by accident, or maybe by fate, Jack stumbles upon the very person he thought he'd wiped from existence, but not quite how he expected.</p><p>So what will Jack do with this new knowledge, that Pitch Black still exists?</p><p>Is the Boogeyman really no longer a threat as he claims, or is it all just a hoax?</p><p>And, if it ends up coming to a dynamic decision, who will Jack leave behind: </p><p>The Guardians, or Pitch?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hide and Seek: Lost and Found Again

**Author's Note:**

> I went back and revised every chapter! :D I didn't heavily rewrite/change anything but, god, did fetus me not know how to use semi-colons *shudder* why did no one stab me for that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I got on my laptop to fix the italics and stuff, so hopefully that's better~ :D  
> I won't really write anything here so you can go ahead and get started ^-^  
> Please, enjoy!~ :3

The morning sky lacked it's typically cheery chirping as the sun lugged itself over the horizon. In actuality, the sky was missing a lot of things: the birds themselves, the usual cluster of clouds, any form of aircraft; furthermore, unbeknown to most, it lacked a particularly mischievous winter sprite.

Jack Frost was not quite himself. Not today, anyway. The boy, forever trapped in the body of a teen, sat in the middle of the pond that he claimed as a home, casually lounging atop the thin ice as if he were weightless. His legs were pulled up against his chest and his pale chin rested atop clothed knees. The surrounding air was rather dull and silent.

He let out an emotionless sigh, staring at the frozen water as he did so. With the tap of his smallest toe, an intricate pattern of frost wove itself into the crystal lake before melting and vanishing. There was one painstakingly inevitable truth that nailed itself into every fiber of his being:

Jack was bored.

Another winter had come and gone, and before he'd anticipated it, the next was already upon him. Of course, during the periods that the warmer seasons took over Burgess, Jack would go somewhere cold to wait it out. Maybe to visit North, or to Antarctica again, but just when he thought he was having fun, he'd suddenly feel rather lonely. This didn't really surprise him, as he was prone to such a feeling and was rather used to it, but the real issue was that it would never go away. He always figured that he was just homesick and longed for the familiarity of his lake, but once the winter came again and he returned, he always found himself sitting.

Just sitting. Jack thought and released another empty sigh. It had been four lackadaisical years since they defeated Pitch. The world seemed in order and without fear. Children slept peacefully--their faith restored--and were happy.

However, despite everything seeming to be the way that it should, Jack thought that his day-to-day life had been consumed by boredom rather than the sense of justice that he'd expected. He was the guardian of fun, for the moon's sake! Sitting around being perfectly content and happy was completely out of his element.

  
With a huff, Jack stood. An irritation was growing inside his stomach and he needed to burn some energy lest it consume him. Kicking his staff off the ice, he grabbed the long Shepard's cane and threw it over his shoulder. With nothing more than a small flex of muscle, Jack lifted himself into the sky.

"It's not like I don't like being a guardian," he mumbled to himself, still not quite out of his old habit of talking to the moon, which had extended to include the sun apparently. "I just wish there was something to do."

Jack landed on the asphalt tiles of a nearby roof. He scanned the surrounding houses from his perch, noticing how they all seemed to huddle together almost as if trying to keep warm.

"I've found my center and my reason for existing, but Pitch is gone now. The kids are safe; there's nothing to go against." Gripping his staff, Jack plopped down on the reddish brown tiles and hung his feet over the gutter. "I don't do anything special like the others, so I just don't see the point in being here anymore." Hanging his head, Jack stared at his toes, wiggling and scrunching them together to amuse himself.

"Jack!" He heard suddenly, lifting his eyes quickly to see a short mess of brown hair stuffed beneath a turquoise bomber-like hat. The boy waved to him which earned him more than one strange look from the adult onlookers. Jamie didn't really seem to care though, so Jack smiled and waved back.

"Hey, kiddo." Jack chuckled and came down from his aerial seat to greet him. "How've you been?"

"Cold!" He exclaimed with a joking glare, which earned a laugh from Jack, "But I've never been better, otherwise." Seeing Jamie growing up overtime filled Jack with a sense of joy that felt familiar--almost brotherly--somehow, and he always looked forward to seeing him, even if only a couple times every year. Having him here now, however, seemed to Jack like perfect timing.

"Well, then what do you say, Jamie? How bout we play a game?" Jamie's face brightened.

"Of course! You pick this time, since I chose last time."

"Hmm," Jack stopped in though, a sly grin on his lips. "What about Hide-and-seek?" He suggested. Jamie chuckled and motioned for him to follow as he started down the street.

"That doesn't seem like something you'd pick. Too slow for you, but I'd love to play. Sounds fun!" Jamie looked back at Jack with a wink. "Let's go get everyone else!" Jack was slightly taken aback as Jamie sprinted down the street.

Too slow? For me? He frowned. Was he really such a high action guy, that a game of hide-and-seek even seemed too low level for him? No wonder he was bored then.

Lifting himself a couple inches off the ground, he flew after him and gathered the remaining kids who all agreed to meet at the lake. Jack tagged Jamie, and suddenly they were all racing towards their rendezvous.

"You're too slow!"

"No fair, I wasn't ready!"

"I'm gonna win!"

"No flying, Jack! That's cheating!"

The kids laughed and shouted as they approached the frozen water, tagging each other and slipping a few times as they went. They all stopped, breathless. Jack hovered above them, a grin on his face and a laugh on his lips.

  
"Alright," he spoke, "Everyone pick a number 1-10. Whoever's closest is it!" The kids groaned.

"So that means you're automatically hiding then, Jack? Since you're choosing the number?" One of them said with a laugh. Jack rose his hands in defense.

"Woah, hey now," he grinned, "I'm just gracefully volunteering as the one to do the dirty work!"

"More like you just don't wanna be it!" Jamie chuckled.

"Okay, fine. You caught me. But seriously!" He pointed at them, "Pick a number!"

One after the other, they all thought of their numbers and waited for everyone else to get done before revealing them.

  
"Sorry, Claude. You're it." Jack chuckled, not feeling the slightest bit sorry.

"Aww man! Well, let's do this then." Leaning against a nearby tree, he began counting as the other children, and Jack, darted into the brightening forest.

Jack grinned to himself as he flew off faster than the others, looking to get as far back as he could. That was always the key to winning; everyone else would be found before you, b ut it wasn't as if Jack planned to stay in one spot anyway.

"Where to hide? Where to hide?" He thought out loud, darting from tree to tree while looking behind bigger rocks for the perfect hiding place.

"Not here. No. Not there either." Jack pursed his lips in though.

"Hmm, can't be in a tree. That wouldn't be fair and I'd be accused of cheating again." He smiled. "Well, let's look over here, I've got plenty of time." Deciding to take a left, Jack flew deeper into the forest, rejecting each potential spot that he found until he came upon some foliage that was growing rather thick.

"Oh, ho!" He beamed. "Perfect!" Approaching the plants, which were tucked away behind a rock and dipped into the ground slightly, Jack pushed away some leaves, causing snow to fall off. He tucked himself between them. It was rather cozy, space wise, and he felt more than hidden. He felt invisible.

Jack frowned and shook away the unsettling thought, suddenly not so excited as he realized he'd have to wait to be found. Letting out a quiet breath, Jack crossed his legs, got comfortable, and leaned against the rock that was hiding him. Minutes passed, and not even the sound of footsteps could be heard. Jack's eyes grew heavier.

"How long does it take to find me?" He mumbled to himself suddenly feeling rather tired from his previous rushing around. Jack closed his eyes, and before he knew it, the calming grip of sleep snatched him from reality.  
\---  
He dreamed of snow, and the melodic sound of children's laughter. He dreamed of snowball fights and igloos, snowmen and sled rides.

But the joyful laughter faded into something more dark and sinister. It morphed into a deep, smokey chuckle that echoed throughout his mind, taunting him and luring him further in. He found himself at the entrance to a cave. The old stone ground was cold, even to Jack, and it made his skin crawl as he inched forward.

But you're afraid. Jack spun around as the familiar voice clouded his mind, and he realized that the entrance had been sealed with dirt.

You're afraid, of disappointing them. Dropping his staff and slamming his palms into the flat slab of earth, Jack was hit with a sickening sense of Deja-vu. His stomach turned, and suddenly he felt like vomiting.

They'll never accept you, not really. After all, you're not one of them.

And Jack covered his ears and tried to scream, but all he could hear was laughter.  
\---

"He's over here!" Jack jerked awake at the sound of rustling leaves.

"Found you, sleepy head." It took him a moment to realize where he was, but Jack finally looked up at Jamie and gave a halfhearted smile.

"Dang," He said, not really worried about it too much. "You found me." Behind Jamie, two other kids approached and Jamie reached out a hand to Jack.

"Well, c'mon. We gotta find the others."

"Sorry kid," Jack sighed. "I'm not feeling so well. You guys go on, and I'll make it up to you later."

"Are you okay?"

"I should be fine. Just a bit tired is all." But that was a lie. Jack knew that the only reason he fell asleep was because time was passing too slowly. Sprites like him didn't actually need sleep, but Jack needed some excuse to get away for awhile. He had some thinking to do.

"Alright. Don't push yourself so much." And with that, Jamie and the others darted off, leaving him once again in solitude. His mind went back to his dream.

Or, more like, his memory.

Most of the time when Jack slept, if he slept, he often dreamed of things that happened in the past. This time was no different, but he felt an uneasiness tugging at him, especially due to the fact that he had never seen the dream's location before. Yes, it was most certainly Pitch who had been speaking, but it wasn't Pitch's lair that he had been in.

Jack frowned and ran a hand through his white hair as he stood, grabbed his staff, and walked away.

What was that dream about? Was it just a memory or a sign? Could it mean--? Jack shook his head.

"No, no. Of course not. The ground sealed behind him! There's no way that Pitch could be--" And as he stepped, the ground gave way beneath him, causing him to loose his footing and plummet into darkness. He shouted as he fell, groaning when he hit the ground. It was eerily silent.

He fumbled around in the darkness for his staff, the same sense of replaying time washing over him again as he pat the ground in a desperate attempt to find it, but the shadows obscured his vision and Jack could not even see his hands in front of him. He scoffed, his staff nowhere in reach, and he froze as he heard a quiet, scratchy voice behind him.

"Frost?"

 

 

 


	2. Pandora's Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of where we left off :3 AKA: what happens after the cliffhanger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was pretty fun to write ^-^

"Frost?" Jack whipped around as a bolt of fear ripped through him. A slithering silence flooded in when the voice faded. Everything was as still as death itself, and he could hear his hear heart thundering in his chest, his blood rushing through his veins. It was almost maddening.

"Come to deride the sundered King?" The weak voice resonated with a hint of emptiness and contempt. Jack shivered as the scratchiness of the words ran a chilling claw down his spine, causing a defiled feeling to crawl under his skin and dance beneath his rib-cage.

Jack tiptoed forward slightly, still feeling around for his staff with his feet, but the darkness only grew impossibly darker as he walked cautiously onward. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he tried to push away his fear and stand brave.

"Show yourself, coward!" He shouted into the abyss, the words coming out less threatening than he had hoped. His voice echoed back, followed by a low grumble that vibrated the damp, swampy smelling walls. Jack mistook it for some animal, but as it slowly zeroed in on the emptiness in front of him, he realized that it was instead a low, feral chuckle. The darkness did not fade but he stopped, the mood in the air changing from desolate to dangerous.

"Coward?" The crackly voice questioned with a smile that Jack could not see. The darkness laughed but quickly died back down in a sort of realization. "Coward...?" The voice faded slightly, becoming a dim whisper. Then there was more silence; somehow thoughtful and yet on edge. Jack dared not to breathe.

"Coward!?" It demanded once more but with a sudden newfound rage. The man growled and suddenly Jack was grabbed by the collar of his sweatshirt.

"H-Hey! Get off me!" But the long, thin fingers only grasped tighter as he was dragged forcefully into a place he could not see. He scratched and clawed at the knuckles laced in the cloth, but it was as if he were attacking shadow; nothing deterred this monster.

"I'm a coward, am I?" The cave walls shook with fury as the words were shouted at Jack, his feet dragging helplessly behind him. His breathing was being strangled as the figure only gripped him tighter and tighter. The shadows slowly began to fade as he noticed a beam of light pouring in from the high ceiling.

Before he could register what was going on, he was thrown into the light. He quickly recovered himself and turned in all directions to find the man somewhat like a cornered animal looking for it's assailant. But there was nothing.

Jack squinted, but still, not even a silhouette could be seen nor a glimpse of contrasting shadow. His ears picked up sounds of weak rushing water, and the pained wailing of wind as it passed through the twisting tunnels of the once immaculate lair.

"I am _no_ _coward_ _._ " The sudden cold, almost hollow hiss startled Jack, his eyes widening as Pitch emerged from shadow. He did not look up at him, but kept his eyes low; a furious scowl was plastered on his pale face. 

Jack couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

The once infamous, 'boogeyman' looked no more scary to him than an wounded, dying raven. His tall figure was deathly thin, and Jack would say that Pitch had always been lithe, but now the word seemed somewhat wrong as the shade had about as much grace as a newborn fawn. Pitch's cheekbones were alarmingly prominent; the skin of his face was sunken and thin. All around his eyes were shaded and bruised from a clear lack of something more than just sleep.

Pitch lifted his head slightly to glare at him, his once magnificently beautiful silver streaked amber eyes now faded to a dull, lifeless grey. Jack swallowed nervously as his eyes trailed across the rest of the beaten man's body. He was covered in cuts and scars, some seeming recent/ and others as if they were ancient, long forgotten wounds that would never heal. His knuckles were split and stained with dried blood, and the once liquid like robes that used to fall perfectly around the man's form now were frayed and faded. Jack felt sick to his stomach.

"Who did this to you?" He asked more to himself in a whisper of disbelief. Pitch scoffed and retreated back into the shadow.

"You _dare_ try to feign innocence?" He spat, "If it weren't for you and the rest of the Guardian _scum_ _..."_ A sharp inhale of breath cut off his words as he began coughing violently. Jack knew that Pitch was his enemy, and he knew that he shouldn't, but he couldn't help feeling bad for the other man. Pulling himself off the ground, he looked around for him, suddenly feeling as though he needed to do _something_.

"Pitch, come on! Get back here, I want to help you." The coughing slowly subsided and was replaced by another low growl.

"Help? _Help_ _!?"_ Jack fumbled back as Pitch lashed at him, suddenly reappearing. "Don't think, Frost, that I'd stoop so low as to accept sympathy from the likes of _you_ _._ You and your ilk are nothing but a plague in the world that should be mine!" Pitch gnashed his teeth at the shorter boy, narrowing his tired eyes. "I don't need your _pity_ _."_ His voice was full of venom.

"Maybe you do, maybe you don't," Jack said quietly, his chest tightening. "But I can't...I can't just leave this alone!" Pitch made a disgusted sound, but Jack ignored it and continued, his heart frantic from uncertainty. "I'm not saying that I'm not at fault, and I'm not trying to play innocent." Pitch turned to walk away but Jack grabbed his wrist. "I'm not asking you to forgive me."

_What am I doing?_ Was the one thing running through Jack's mind, but for some unknown reason he felt that this was wrong; something-- _anything--_ needed to be done to make this right. Pitch pulled his arm away and ran questioning eyes over him.

"What _are_ you asking then, Jack?" He asked low and curiously, clearly skeptical of Jack's motives. 

"Let me make this right." Pitch laughed. It was an empty, sarcastic laugh and Jack shivered as emotionless eyes glared into his own.

"Make it right? Oh my, but you are something different." And he said it like a curse.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

" _What's that supposed to--_ " Pitch gasped and turned away as he broke out into a sudden hysterical laughing fit, much to Jack's irritation.

"It's not funny!" Jack tried to say, but Pitch wasn't listening.

"You do realize that I'm your sworn enemy, right?" He took a breath. "Me being defeated IS _right."_ He chuckled. "Don't tell me you're actually through playing 'Guardian,' are you, Jack?" A sly smile crept it's way onto the taller man's face. Jack lowered his head, narrowed his brow, and tightened his lips into a thin line, much to Pitch's surprise. 

"Wait, you're not serious are you?" Jack looked up at him with a conflicted look on his face, but still said nothing. "You really are through with them." Pitch chuckled once more. 

"No." Jack demanded sudden, not entirely sure why he felt something missing, "You're wrong, I'm not--" But he was cut off.

"Didn't I tell you, Jack? I told you that you'd never be one of them, and look. I was right all along."

"I said that you're not!"

"Oh, but I am." Pitch laced his hands together and stared down at him. "I can _feel_ your fears, Jack, or have you forgotten that too?"

"You're the one who's forgotten! How many times do I have to say it: I'm _not_ afraid of you!"

"Oh, I know. I remember that quite clearly. You were never quite afraid of me," Pitch smiled wickedly, his sharp teeth showing from behind grey lips. "But you _are_ afraid of believing me." Jack clenched his teeth as Pitch once again faded into shadow. An eerie, hollow laugh echoig all around him as the darkness moved like a living substance. 

"Pitch!" Jack shouted but, unlike before, his voice did not echo; it sounded muffled and constricted. Suddenly the light faded.

_By the way, Jack,_ The words flooded in all around him. _Your fear tastes so refreshing; Thank you for setting me free._

 

 

 


	3. Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire

  "No," Jack's muffled cries were drown out by the menacing laugh. "No!" He tried again, but the louder he screamed the quieter his voice sounded.

  A heavy, unshakable feeling washed over his limbs, and suddenly Jack found himself collapsing. His entire body felt like lead; he could barely even lift his gaze.

  " _Pitch_..." He growled and the shadows became insanely silent as his mind slipped into oblivion.

\---

  The air around him was warm.

  _Far too warm._

  Jack didn't quite know where he was or what was going on, but as he slowly began to regain his senses, he mentally frowned at such an odd feeling. He couldn't feel his limbs, or even his own breathing; his mind felt entirely disconnected from his body. He could faintly make out the muffled sounds of someone calling his name.

  _Jack. Jack?_ But he could not open his eyes to discover who it was; his eyelids were like steel. After a moment, a sudden wash of feeling flooded into his being and his body felt tingly as if his blood circulation had just been returned. Jack's ears slowly adjusted, becoming more clear and the voice slowly became somewhat recognizable. It was a deep, somewhat scruffy voice that was doused by a thick Russian accent.

  "Jack, wake up!" An inexplicable groan escaped from Jack's throat unwillingly. It took a monumental amount of effort, but he cracked his eyes open slightly.

  "You can't just fall asleep in the middle of conversation, Jack." The teen peeked up at the larger man, his tattooed arms crossed against his chest. 

  "W-what?" Jack slurred, his tongue feeling thick and heavy in his mouth. "I'm not...I'm not..." He trailed off, deciding that it was too much work to complete the thought as he re-closed his eyes, his head resting on his crossed arms which resided on North's desk. A small ice, steam train zoomed speedily passed his face on it's track, but Jack didn't even flinch.

How did he even get here again?

  "Ack," North groaned and grabbed Jack by the hood and pulled him to his feet. 

  "H-Hey!" Jack shouted, completely awaken from his nap as he pulled his hands up to his neck.

"What's got you so tired, hmm? I thought you didn't need sleep?" North set him down and looked at him with a questioning gaze. Jack frowned up at him, also slightly curious himself.

  "I don't need it," He confirmed weakly, looking down as he did so. "And I have no idea what's wrong with me. But my dreams..." Jack trailed off again, his mind going back to the strange, hyper-realistic visions that he had while snoozing. A dream inside of a dream and yet...

  _It felt so real...I just--_

  "Your dreams?" North asked, snapping Jack out of his mind.

  "I'm sure it's nothing," He sighed meekly. "I've probably just been overwhelming myself?" He said with obvious uncertainty in his voice. North frowned at him but didn't say anything. "I-I'm gonna go now," Jack took a deep breath and wiped his forehead.  Frosty residue came off on his fingers; it was a sure sign that his body was trying to sweat. It was far too warm in North's workshop for him, even despite the fact that it was built into ice. "Sorry about, uh, falling asleep," Jack grabbed his staff, which was leaning against the wall, and lowered it to his side. "I'll see you later, North." 

  "Later, Jack." And before the other had even finished saying his name, Jack bolted to the nearest window, ripped it open, and leaped into the frosty, arctic air. 

_Just what I needed._ He forced in as much oxygen as his lungs would take, the freezing gusts of air not deterring him in the slightest. With a determined expression and a surge of anxiety pulsing through him, he tightened his grip on his staff and urged the wind to carry him faster.

  "Now," He said,  narrowing his brow. "This time it's real."

\---

  The sky over Burgess was dark. Thick, ominous clouds cowered together against the dull grey sky as they began to weep softly. The wind blew fiercer, and the unsuspecting townsfolk lugged themselves to the safety of their homes out of the cold and freshly fallen snow.

  Jack approached the the town swiftly, his staff clutched in both hands as he commanded the wind silently to lower him. His bare feet made not a sound as he landed on the outskirts of the woods that surrounded the city. Feeling a strange uneasiness buzz in the crisp air, Jack frowned as he made his way deeper into the woods, reciting the path that his dream self had taken.  The shadows seemed to  get darker and surprisingly colder as he quickened his pace.

  Strokes of wind whistled through the branches, the rustling making the forest seem empty and alone. Jack turned his eyes skyward and watched cautiously as the tops of the naked trees and evergreens swayed, almost seeming to lure him farther in. Approaching the place where he had hidden in the game of hide-and-seek, Jack pulled back the thickly grown brush and his eyes widened. Beyond the ferns and shriveling bushes, a deep, narrow chasm was carved into the earth, almost exactly like the Boogeyman's first lair except lacking the depressing looking bed frame.

  Jack approached the deep hole and glared down at the darkness, remembering what happened last time he decided to just dive in.

  _I can't afford to make needless mistakes all the time,_ Jack though with a light sigh then poked thoughtfully at the ground with his staff, sending bits of dirt tumbling into the dark. _If I keep messing up, the others..._ Jack felt his stomach clench.

  What if he were to enter PItch's lair, and need to be rescued? Would the other's think less of him? What if he entered and it was all just a part of Pitch's game, like last time? Would the other Guardians have the same hurt expressions like on Easter four years ago? The same betrayed, distrusting, _disappointed--_ Jack shook his head.

  "No," He said firmly under his breath, gripping his staff. "I have to do this. I have to show them that I can do something besides mess things up!" Without giving himself time for second thoughts, he dropped into the lair, a slight twinge of fear swirling inside his stomach. 

  Naturally it was dark. Far darker than anything he had ever seen. The memory of his dream replayed in his mind and he gripped his staff even tighter, his knuckles turning white. He focused his mind on his internal powers, feeling a magical essence seep into the oak as his staff began to faintly glow. On either side of him were eroded cave walls, jagged and sharp, illuminated by the cold, blue light. The tightness of the cave made him feel rather suffocated. 

Inching forward slowly, Jack was slightly surprised when light started pouring in from holes that seemed to have been dug out of the sides of the cave. Dimming the light of his staff until it faded, he looked up as the small hallway opened up into a large, single chamber with a high ceiling. It was similar to what it used to be, but no bird cages, no winding stairs, no labyrinth... 

  "Nothing...?" Jack whispered, somewhat skeptical. He could see every inch of the open room, as several beams of dull sunlight were seeping in, but not a sign of Pitch. It was completely empty. Knowing that he would never be able to sniff out the other if he were morphed into darkness, Jack called out his name, dropping into a fighting stance.

  "Pitch!" The sound of his voice bounced off the walls, then faded. There was no answer except for the empty calls of the wind. His stomach dropped.

  "No," He growled, gritting his teeth. "Pitch! Get out here and fight me!" He yelled, but still there was no reply save for his own voice. Jack picked himself off the ground and rushed around the room frantically.

  _It can't be! It can't--!_ But no matter how much Jack looked, there were no signs of the Nightmare King.

  "It was a dream!" He shouted to the stale air. "It wasn't real! Pitch isn't real!" But Jack knew that this time, even if not how or when, that he really had caused a mess bigger than he could ever imagine.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> Someone please kill me. I hate this chapter.
> 
> It's like filler, but not because it's a transition. -_- ugh
> 
> But thank you for reading nonetheless! XD *contains self* I'm not gonna make a long note like always, so....bye before I get out of control XD <3 
> 
> ~Sensei


	4. The Boy in a Small House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A boy so small can have a fear so stupendous.

  It was a small house, tucked away between two larger ones. It was quaint, this house;  it was well tended to and unassuming. Yes, It was a small house but, within it's walls, it held an even smaller child.

  A boy, to be exact. So fragile and delicate. So sweet and unpretentious. A boy who never did anything he was told not to.

  Yes, indeed. It was such a small boy in such a small house...but who knew that this small being could have a fear so stupendous?

\---

  "He isn't real..." The dark cave walls loomed all around Jack as the wind hummed and whistled eerily in between cracks or through unobstructed hollows and gaping caverns. He suddenly felt somewhat trapped, as if the mounds of rock enclosing the chamber were somehow bars to a metaphorical cage.  Jack frowned, his brows knitting dangerously close together as his eyes began to burn slightly from the monumental guilt that gnawed away at him for unknown reasons.

  Where was Pitch? How did he escape? How so soon, and why--No the answer to why was simple, Jack knew. Pitch needed fear. He was dying just like the dismay that he fed off of. However, the one question that Jack kept replaying repeatedly through his mind was one less abstract: how did any of this connect to him? The almost prophetic dreams, the overwhelming lure he felt towards the boogeyman's lair, and his reluctance  to tell his beloved friends of his strange feelings--where did they come from? Why him? And why now?

Jack rubbed at his face to dismiss the overwhelming urge to start cursing everything under the moon when a sudden flash of black whipped past him, knocking the breath from his lungs. Jack whipped around, gripped his staff with both hands, and bolted after the shadow.

  The darkened creature fled into the streets of the town, the wind strong and the sky now shrouded in shadow; only a few rays of fading sunlight pierced the veil of clouds. As the shadow leaped and flashed over buildings, Jack followed, always seeming one step behind. Turning a sharp corner and bolting, the thing vanished, but Jack stood ready, his heart pounding against his ribs. 

  A huff of breath came from behind him, and Jack arched his back as the same eerie feeling from before crawled up his spine. Turning around cautiously, Jack saw two golden eyes glaring at him; the darkness around the glowing orbs formed the silhouetted shape of a large equine. He stilled, taking in the sight of the nightmare. 

He hadn't seen one in over four years; the realisation was astounding. The beast was large--larger than Jack-- but he could tell that the fearling wasn't as grand as its former self and that the elegance it once possesed was long lost and abandoned. It seemed feral and untamed. 

  Jack had let his guard down for just a moment and instantly the quadruped bolted almost as if it were afraid. Pulling himself together, he followed it until it backed itself against the wall of a house. He smiled triumphantly, having cornered the beast. 

He stepped forward, his staff outstretched, but as he grew closer, the horse's snarls and stamping grew even more restless ad erratic. It snapped at him; it gnashed its teeth and vigorously shook its head. He side stepped out of surprise to avoid the attacks as the ferocious mare kicked at him, inching closer as he stepped back. Then suddenly, the horse reared itself onto its hind legs, standing taller than two men. Jack's eyes widened as it began to come down on him. He put his hands in front of his face--a useless gesture--and flinched, but instead of hitting him, the nightmare disintegrated with a feral shriek. The black sand pooled around Jack's feet as he breathed heavily. Long tendrils of the substance slithered across the pavement and into the nearby street drain. 

  Jack's mind was a jumbled mess of incognizable fear and worry, but even before he had time to straighten out his thoughts, he felt a strange yet familiar presence. There was something, once again, trying to lure him somewhere. He could feel it. Feel the fear of someone other than himself and it called to him.

  Not quite understanding why, Jack walked to the back of the house, the feeling growing stronger. He threw his gaze skyward, noticing that one of the second story windows of the house was wide open. Jack clenched his jaw, readying himself as anxiety gripped him. He lifted himself quietly off the ground and peered in through the opening into a child's bedroom. Jack's breath hitched in his throat.

  The small, cyan room was a doused in an abnormal amount of darkness; the nightlight residing in the corner of the room had been ripped from the wall and discarded on the floor. Over the small twin sized bed, a pale, gaunt figure loomed over a distraught sleeping boy, black sand set in play above his head. Jack furrowed his brow, his stomach churning.

  "How peculiar," The Nightmare King spoke from above the child, leaning down to get a closer look at the unfolding nightmare. "Such a small boy, and yet you posses immaculate fear." A deep chuckle resonated around the room, but then suddenly Pitch coughed quietly. Jack would have chuckled himself, a reassuring feeling swirling inside his chest that, no, it wasn't just a wasted dream, and yes, there was still time to defeat Pitch again before he regained his strength. Feeling his confidence reinstate itself, Jack pulled himself up into the small room, his his footsteps silent. He readied his staff.

  "I knew you'd catch up eventually," Jack was taken off guard as Pitch spoke to him without even turning around. "What a shame though. I was having so much _fun."_ The words were spoken without the slightest hint of emotion, and it seemed to Jack as if it were entirely unintentional. Pitch didn't turn to look at him as a swirl of black sand formed beneath him and the Nightmare King sat in his make shift throne with an exhausted sigh. Jack frowned, pulling his staff back up in defense and tiptoeing closer to the weary man.

  "What are you doing here, Pitch?" Jack hissed dangerously.

  "What does it look like." With a minuscule wave of his pale grey hand towards the trembling, sleeping child, Pitch let out another small sigh and then rested his arm back against his nightmare chair. "I'm collecting my long expired goodies." The man chuckled meekly as Jack inched closer, ready to stand by his Guardian code.

_To protect their wonder, their hopes, and their dreams._

  "Whether you've finished collecting your _goodies_  or not," Jack scoffed. "You're going to have to leave."

  "Or what, Jack?" The question was rather hollow. Jack knew that Pitch didn't have the strength to fight him, and that his bold front was all just for appearance sake, or out of old habit.

  "I don't think I need to tell you what." 

  "Oh?" Pitch chuckled again, his throat sounding scratchy and raw. Jack could tell that even speaking must be hard for the shade, but still he did anyway. "Because last I checked, there's nothing worse you can do. Beat me, chain me, imprison me. Poison me, lock me away again, or subject me to the worst mental torture you could possibly imagine and still it would not get any worse, believe me, Jack." Pitch turned his head slightly and Jack caught a glimpse of his expression. It was pained as if remembering something dreadful. 

Jack knew that look; he knew what it spoke without using words, and he absentmindedly thought that he never wanted to know what happened in his lair after Pitch was dragged back into shadow. "Your threats do not sway me." A small, unknown feeling ached within his chest, and suddenly Jack's desire to fight the man seeped away, faded into the darkness. A sudden overwhelming feeling hit him and Jack's eyes burned with tears that wanted to be shed, but not for himself, but for _him_. His heart ached, and he somehow knew that this feeling--this pain--was exactly what Pitch was feeling. Something inside of Jack wrenched itself, twisted and turned, making Jack's stomach sick as the shadows all around crawled up his limbs and over him. The room fell silent for a brief moment as he clutched his aching chest.

  _The shadows feel defiled._ He thought, the darkness whispering to him softly.

  "Well," Pitch said, much to Jack's surprise. He gripped the arms of his chair and pulled himself up unsteadily, the piece of furniture vanishing into shadow as he did. Jack looked up at him as he walked slowly and ungracefully towards the open window. "I got what I came for, so I'll leave before you throw a fit." And with a final chuckle, the Nightmare King vanished into the void of midnight, leaving nothing behind to indicate that he was there at all. Not even a trace of sand.

Jack looked over at the previously bothered boy, but now the fear was completely gone, replaced by the golden sand of a perfect dream. And Jack felt more alone than he's ever felt, left in the small house, in the tiny cyan room, and he himself as the boy with the grand fear.

  Because maybe, just _maybe_  a part of him knew that Pitch wasn't entirely evil, even if his brain didn't quite understand how. And Maybe, just _maybe_ he didn't hate the man like he should.

  And that's what scared him the most.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \---
> 
> A/N
> 
> I really don't know what I'm doing with this, so sorry if I A.) seem like I repeat stuff because I probably am *really really sorry ;-; I know that's annoying* and B.) If the plot gets into a major train wreck and gets utterly destroyed...AKA: I'm sorry if the story comes out really shitty...because It just might. 
> 
> But I am really, really thankful for all of you reading, and I'm so thankful for the comments and kudos~ :) I'm really happy that you guys try to see the beauty in this heap of garbage! XD
> 
> Please stay forever wonderful. I love you all so much~
> 
> <3 Sensei


	5. Frozen Treats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack feels like he needs to mend his relationship with Pitch, but just how will he go about that?

  Jack wasn't oblivious to the fact that what he was currently doing was against everything he existed for, but what he _was_ oblivious to was why he was doing it at all. With a dreadful expression and a stomach full of stone, the ever renowned Father Frost stood meekly in front of the entrance to his rival's dwelling.  

  "What the heck..." Jack groaned, bringing a hand up to grip at his bangs nervously. It had been about two weeks since his last incident with the Nightmare King and, even if he'd never tell anyone, he just couldn't get the other man off his mind. No matter what he did, where he went, or who he was with, Pitch somehow manage to wriggle his way into his thoughts. 

   Jack was there when Pitch had risen above the Guardians and he was there when the shade had re-lost everything. He saw Jamie walk through him, saw the honest fear, confusion, and despair portrayed on his pale face when he'd realized that all of his hard work was for naught. Jack knew that feeling like he knew his own heartbeat; none of the Guardians understood it like he did. Hundreds of years in solitude. Hundreds of years longing for answer--for change--but nothing ever came. He couldn't even imagine losing it all after he's tasted what it's liked to be seen, and Pitch had lost it twice over from what he knew. 

Pitch once said that he understood him and now, it seems, that Jack understands him in ways that no one else ever could. He honestly wanted to help the man for that reason, even if just a little, but it was also in part of him just being himself. Somewhere deep inside him, he knew, there was a brown headed boy who just wanted to help everyone who needed it--be them his frightened little sister, or a sorrowful looking boogeyman--and that's exactly what he planned to do.

  Putting his selfless thoughts to actions, however, proved to be easier said than done.

  How on Earth was he, Jack Frost, going to help the man he's sworn enemies to? Not only was there the danger of being caught by the other Guardians at any given time, but the matter of how to go about it was also an issue. Not to mention, Jack was probably the Guardian that Pitch hated most right now...

  But that's what brought him here, staring down into the gaping passageway with a pair of popsicles in hand. He looked down at the frozen treats that were still wrapped in their white plastic packaging--the flavours of each unknown to him--and sighed. It suddenly occurred to him just how stupid this plan really was. At the time, when Jack hadn't the slightest clue what to try, when he'd finally thought of using his centre and just being himself to cheer up Pitch, he'd thought it was an amazing idea, but now being here face-to-face with the actuality of the situation, he felt more like a colossal idiot rather than a caring genius. He stared at the hole in the earth, debating whether or not he really wanted to go inside.

  _Well, I mean, I shouldn't just barge in...? What if he gets mad at me if I do that? And he might not even be home! Oh no, wait, that's really not good if he isn't...out causing trouble..._

With an irritated groan, Jack ran his hand through his hair one more time before making a decision and clearing his throat.

  "Umm, hello?" He called down toward the hole but no one answered. Putting the popsicles in his hoodie pocket where it was nice and cold, Jack bent down onto the ground to rest on his knees. Grabbing either side of the opening, he stuck his head in slightly.

  "Hellooooo?" Jack called playfully, extending the length of the word in a comical way. "Anybody home?" A loud crash sounded from within the hollow tomb as if something had fallen. Jack froze for a moment, his mouth suddenly feeling dry.

  _What if that was Pitch?_

  "Hello?" He tried again but his throat clenched around the word, leaving it quiet and breathy. Swallowing heavily, Jack hurriedly picked himself up and, before he knew what he was doing, jumped in after the sound. The place seemed brighter than before, almost as if the shadows were thinning from a lack of source,  but the place did seem to be back to normal rather than just an empty chamber. Jack assumed, even though he could tell that it wasn't what it was when Pitch was at full power, that he was at least regaining some strength. Somewhere deep down that fact scared him, but he was mostly relieved that he hadn't inadvertently helped the Guardians _kill_  the Boogeyman. 

  Pitch was easy to find. Not far in, the man stood lonesomely on the decrepit stone bridge of his crumbling home, staring at one of the many rusted cages scattered around that had worn out it's fastenings and fallen free. Jack felt his worry for the man's safety quickly fade and realized just what he'd done. 

  He'd jumped in after Pitch for the thousandth time it would seem. It was a spur of the moment thing, but now that he was sure that he was alright, his clamminess  began to creep back up on him as the adrenaline faded. He wasn't quite sure if Pitch knew he was there yet, and jumped at the sound of his voice.

  "There's another one I've got to dispose of sooner or later." The tall man sighed wearily but strolled past the discarded metal as if it weren't even there. Jack very cautiously started walking towards the man so as to not anger him for entering. "Agh, I know you're there Jack," A bolt of what seemed to be almost embarrassment ran through him as he heard his name spoken aloud, but quickly regained himself. "What have you come to extort from me this time?"

  "I haven't come to fight." Jack lowered his staff and let out a quiet breath. "I came to...apologize." Pitch groaned to himself and rubbed at his brow. 

  "For what, Frost? For being reborn? For being you? Are you apologizing for not joining me? For foiling my plans? For not rotting in that icy trench?" Pitch turned to glare at him. "Because I despise you for all that and so. Much. _More."_ Jack lowered his eyes, an emotional sting pounding in his chest. 

  "I...I don't....I mean..." He mumbled quietly, Pitch all the while staring at him. Jack sighed. He knew why he was angry at him. He'd just come along one day and ruined his life's work, and over what? A box of teeth. True, they did hold his memories and the reason he was chosen--what Jack had been searching for his whole life--but what did it matter now that all of his past was eroded away by time? Even if Jack had never figured out his past, or had known it from the moment he emerged from ice, what difference did it make in the end? Either way, he couldn't reverse time. He saved his sister, yes, but after everything he did, after everything he sacrificed, he never lived to see her again anyway. He lost her then and there despite trying his best to hold the time they shared for a bit longer.

  "I don't have time for this, Jack. As you can see, I've got a lot of work to do, thanks to you." Pitch growled and turned back around to walk away. "You've said your piece, now leave."

  "Yes," Jack whispered, silent tears forming in his ice blue eyes as he stared at the dirty stone of the floor. Pitch hesitated, facing away from him. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry for everything." Pitch once again turned back to look at him, a quizzical look on his face. "I know that you hate me, because I hate me too, and I am sorry for not joining you, even if I know that I couldn't. And I'm sorry for being me because without me you wouldn't have been dragged down like this!" Jack's knees grew weak as his mind overflowed with strange emotions. He felt so lonely, and yet didn't want to interact with others. He felt so strangled by emotion that no feeling seemed to be there at all; nothing and everything all at once. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his chest as he breathed in sharply. A few tears slid down his face and frosted over his pale cheeks.

  "I-I never wanted to hurt anyone...I just wanted to help. I just want to help..." Jack gripped the cloth of his sweatshirt, rubbing nervously at the blue fabric. "I don't want to be hated. You don't have to like me, Pitch," Jack looked up at the man who was staring ever so slightly worried at him. "But please. Please...don't hate me." Jack awkwardly reached into his pocket, sniffling a couple times and feeling rather pathetic, and held out one of the popsicles as he looked embarrassingly to the side. "I'm sorry." He whispered for a final time, glancing over to see what the other man would do. 

  "W-what?" Jack noticed Pitch shake his head slightly, a confused look in his eyes. "I don't necessarily _hate_  you..." Pitch hesitated and rubbed his hands together in thought before scoffing to himself and shaing his head. "What is that Jack?" He said, dismissing his previous sentence.

  "I don't know the flavour." Jack sniffled.

  "Not the flavour, you moron, what is  _it?"_ Jack looked at the popsicle for a second and then stared back at Pitch.

  "You can't tell?" Jack asked, quizzically staring at the popsicle package with a frown. 

  "No, you idiot! If I could I wouldn't have asked you!" Pitch snapped at him, but Jack just continued to stare at the popsicle, his eyes suddenly widening a bit as something occurred to him. 

  "W-wait," He said, getting up and not bothering to brush himself off as he walked closer to Pitch. "Have you never had a popsicle before?"

  "A what?" Pitch said, clearly unimpressed.

  "A popsicle."

  "Damn you, I heard that!" Pitch growled at him again.

  "Oh, It's a dessert I guess? But it's essentially frozen juice." Jack said, holding it out for him to take it. "I don't know the flavour though, but it's either strawberry, cherry, orange, or grape since those were the one's in the package."

  "Why would I want frozen juice? That's idiotic."

  "Well, why not?" Pitch sighed annoyed.

  "If I wanted juice, I'd get a glass of juice. If I wanted it cold, I'd put ice _in it_  not freeze it!" Pitch frowned at Jack in a way that said, _'get that damn thing out of my face.'_ Of course, Jack didn't.

  "Because frozen things are the best things! I should know!" Jack smiled slightly, feeling somewhat better about this whole situation. "And it's supposed to cool you down in the summer, but I couldn't think of anything else, so just take it." He said, being bluntly honest as he chuckled slightly; holding the treat out closer to the man. Pitch scoffed in a disgusted sort of way at him, but took it anyway, and opened it. 

  "I'm assuming this is cherry." He said as he blankly stared at the vibrant red, icy juice.

  "Oh, cool!" Jack said, pulling his out of his pocket. "That one's the best. I wonder what I got?" Opening his own, Jack frowned.

  "Ah, darn." He said as his own purple treat was revealed. "I got grape." It wasn't as if he hated grape, he liked all of them in fact, but grape just wasn't the one he preferred. Jack was surprised as it was snatched out of his hand.

  "Hey!" He exclaimed as he looked towards Pitch, but hesitated as he noticed the other holding out the cherry popsicle towards him.

  "Here, you damn brat." Pitch said, but the words didn't really seem all too spiteful.

  "No, I mean, I like the grape! That one's yours!" 

  "Just take it." Pitch groaned at him. Jack hesitated. "It's melting, you twit, now take it!" He growled. Jack did as he was told and quickly took it from the other. It instantly refroze, much to Pitch's irritation, but he said nothing.

  "T-Thanks..." Jack mumbled meekly, feeling rather bad now.

  "It's fine." Pitch sighed. "I like grape better than cherry anyway." He said as he took a small bite of the treat. Jack stared at him for a moment from surprise, but then looked down at his own and did the same. It was silent for a brief moment.

  "Hurry up and finish that and then go home." Pitch frowned at him. "I don't want you here any longer than you have to be, like I said," He paused, thinking for just a moment. "I'm _busy_." 

  "Y-Yeah," Jack mumbled and nodded slightly. "Okay, I'll hurry then." And Jack smiled as Pitch walked away, still enjoying his grape popsicle. 

  _Maybe it wasn't that bad of a plan after all._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> Oh gosh, guys, I'm so so sorry! ;0; I really do try to update this story every other day or every two days but I think I haven't updated for three or four--maybe more--this week. I do apologize about that but I am absolutely going to try to finish this, even if I don't know where it's going.
> 
> However, it might run a little slow from now on (but I might update more frequently on the weekends, but that is only two days...I'll try super hard!) the reason being is because, since before I started this story, I've actually been packing my entire house because I'm moving in September. We've already bought our new house, yada yada, but we still have to move out and sell this one. Well, because of that ( and our realtor never informs us about stuff till the last minute and schedules literally more than 5 showings of our house almost EVERY day so I can't be home and I don't have internet access nor my laptop so...) I haven't been home much nor able to write since it's hard to do so on my new phone. On top of moving, school just started on the 8th so I've been stressed over that and busy for 7 hours a day with no time to write and I'm exhausted when I get home (that will change once I get used to waking up early btw :D) And because of all this stress and just everything, I'm staring to get sick, and I'm a VERY sickly person so I'm used to it but I've been having migraines so it's hard to focus and I can't write like that ;-;
> 
> Geez, that was long but you needed to know what was going on with these wacky updates XD
> 
> So I thank you so much for your patience and hopefully my next update won't take as long, but if it does, just know that I am still writing! <3
> 
> Now, about this chapter, I had a dreadful feeling the whole time while writing. I didn't see anything wrong with it necessarily, but I just didn't like it in the beginning. The idea is kinda cute, I think, but I guess I feel like the pacing is off...but it was very fun to write after I got it going! So I hope you enjoyed :D
> 
> I thank you once again, and a thousand times over for reading!
> 
> And don't forget to:
> 
> Comment: I LOVE them :3 and I love you guys <3 also leave me some Kudos, if you liked it~ ;) Thank you haha XD
> 
> I can't wait to hear what you think and I'll see you in the next chapter :)
> 
> And p.s this chapter is twice as long since I ran a bit late XD have some free goodies!
> 
> ~Sensei


	6. Waldo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where's Jack?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is called Waldo BECAUSE I'M SO DAMN FUNNY HAHAHA oh I slay me.

  The coldest moths of winter had come over Burgess and fleeted, the snow slowly melting and flower blooms poking through what remained, and despite the warming weather, it would seem that almost every other day Jack could be found at the Boogeyman's lair. Of course at first his visits were far and in between, but now that the Nightmare King had seemed to be a bit more lenient to his ever persistence to show up out of the blue, the winter sprite had made it a point to visit him rather often. When the harassment-- as Pitch called it--started, he had tried his hardest to make Jack aware that he did not, in fact, want him there at all, but the boy didn't seem discouraged by his threats of inhumane torture, nor his evil glares and minor assaults. To be honest, the fact that Pitch even acknowledged him seemed to make him even more eager to visit.

  Pitch sighed softly to himself, looking over the empty chambers of his lair. He knew that if he wanted Jack gone completely that he could very easily do it himself or have it done for him. The boy was incredibly gullible after all and was even dumb enough to hand him his staff, but no matter how hard Pitch wished for solitude, the thought of having Jack just vanish didn't feel quite right. He had, of course, become a part of his weekly routine to the point that sometimes he never even noticed him at all. 

  Turning around and approaching his stained stone throne, Pitch seated himself and placed his head in one hand then groaned. The boy was, Pitch knew, only inadvertently annoying. There was something he saw in Jack when the spirit's mood was rather low--which was occurring rather often as of late, Pitch noticed, even if the other tried to hide it--and it stired something in him. An almost reminiscent feeling; he remind him of himself when he was young in a way...

  _No, that's not quite true._ He thought.

  Pitch sat up straight and rubbed his face to still his ever present agitation. Jack and himself were similar in many ways; a lot of aspects of their pasts were comparable which had shaped their personalities in two very different, yet very identical forms. While Jack could be considered a, 'good guy,' Pitch was the complete opposite: the antagonist, but even despite that fact, both of them seemed to be troubled souls, with troubled minds, and troubled pasts. Jack appeared to, from his perspective, find some sort of peace in solitude and sought it out when in despair-- something Pitch did rather frequently--and the younger spirit shared the truth of the coin's opposite side with him. Whether they ever wanted to or not, both of them knew the cold sting of _forced_  lonesomeness. It was a dark reality that, even if he was King of darkness, still found a way to hollow out his chest and make it pang with a foreign sadness. 

However, notwithstanding the fact that they were indeed so collateral, Pitch knew, and always would, that Jack could never remind him of anyone--even himself--because the boy was so unique in so many strange ways that nothing could be compared to him. After all, he was the key factor in his defeat, and no one else--except his long lost rival from an age forgotten--could have ever been expected to defeat him at his full power, not even the Guardians.

  Taking a moment to process the fact that all he was thinking of was Jack, Pitch shook his head and mentally scolded his mind. He found that he would try to tell himself that the reason he'd been thinking of him lately was because he was always here with his popsicles, or his snow flurries, his delinquent stories, and his occasionally odd idea to have them both try something new which usually consisted of some random arts and craft project. Pitch never participated in them, and always threatened to kill Jack if he made a mess, but he did find it rather satisfying to watch the younger fail at every attempt to make a snowflake pattern paper chain. 

  No, Pitch new that the reason Jack refused to escape his thoughts was not because the teen was always present nowadays, but rather because today, he was not.

  Nor was he yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that.

  Pitch stood up and paced in front of his throne for what seemed to be the one thousandth time. It wasn't as if he were worried about Jack, no, that was most certainly not the case, but there had been a strange change in his behaviour lately. Three days ago, Jack had come like he always did but Pitch had noticed that the boy seemed rather conflicted about something. He had just assumed that he was starting to feel bad about betraying the Guardians to visit him, and he expected that any time that afternoon that the boy would tell him that he was going to stop coming to see him. In those few moments when he'd realized that Jack might want to move on from seeing him, a part of Pitch dreaded the words that he expected from Jack's mouth and, even if he'd never admit it, when they never came he was more than relieved. 

  "The brat should be here by now...or he could have at least said something..." Pitch huffed and decided to try and get this whole mess out of his mind once and for all. Stepping down the few steps that resided before his throne, he slid into the labyrinth of his home and made for the exit. 

  "It's good that he's gone anyway," Pitch halfheartedly said to himself. "I have things that need to be done." And with that he headed out, ready to find the fear that was waiting for him.

\---

  It was so great to be feared again, if even just in a very small amount. Pitch chuckled to himself as he stepped out of a dark alleyway, done for today. With a wide smirk, Pitch set off down the street--not caring who he passed since he knew hardly anyone saw him anyway--and walked absentmindedly towards no where in particular. He was doing such a great job of keeping Jack off of his mind, that is, until he somehow found himself standing before the other's _'lake house.'_

"Literally." Pitch chuckled again at the lame joke and scanned over the once frozen water. The entirety of the surrounding land was frost free--in both ways--and was instead dappled with spring flowers and tall, untamed grasses. Dragonflies buzzed over the water's surface and a lonesome frog croaked nearby. Despite all of the activity, Pitch kept his gaze hazily looking out at the middle of the lake, wondering where on earth Jack could be in this terribly humid weather. 

  _It's far too hot for spring. Who the hell makes up this weather anyway?_

"Ridiculous." Pitch scoffed and looked behind himself at the houses up the hill. "Oh, yes. The demon-child's house." Pitch furrowed his brow at the building in which Jamie Bennett lived. Pitch truly hated that boy more than he hated Jack Frost himself for making him believe in the first place. It would make more sense if he hated Jack more, but there was something about Jamie Bennett thay he absolutely despised. He could at least _put up with_  Jack.

  And then suddenly, Pitch had an idea. He knew of the bond that the demon-child and the brat had formed, so perhaps Frost had told him where he'd run off to? It was worth a go, but actually thinking about if Jamie really did know and he didn't sort of hurt. Not that he cared, but Pitch though that he was Jack's...

  _Friends? Me and Jack Frost?_

"Never in a thousand years." Pitch laughed sarcastically, but it only lasted a moment before he found himself frowning again. What was wrong with him? It didn't matter if Jack considered him a friend of not, the fact was that he didn't tell Pitch where he was going.

  And that meant he didn't want him to know.

  The truth of the situation made him sigh softly to himself before shaking his head. Deciding to just go home and have a cup of tea, he made his way back to his lair, silently hoping that Jack would indeed show up after all.

  But, of course, he never did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up writing another chapter, isn't that lovely :D Oh I'm so proud *dramatic sniffle* Jk lawl XD  
> But hey, I was writing this and I'd thought it'd be cool if I added some fun facts in the A/N because, hey, why the hell not?
> 
> FUN FACT TIME BOI >:D *mostly about how damn similar I am to Jamie Bennett. It's CREEPY*
> 
> 1.) I have a very very very very similar name to Jamie Bennett. My Name is also Jamie, spelled the same way, and my last name starts with "Be" like his does. AND MY LAST NAME IS 7 LETTER LIKE HIS WHAAAAT. *sorry* I just noticed XD  
> 2.) I have the same general eye colour and hair colour as Jamie. I know he has more of a brown hair but there are legit parts where it seems like it has a red tint to it. Mine's more red but it's similar but we both have a LIGHT brown eye colour. Because oml there are SO MANY shades of brown eyes (this is not sarcastic) >:D  
> 3.) I live in the same general area that Jamie Bennett does. On the globe, his light in near the Kentucky/Tennessee yeah that area...area. I live in southern Kentucky, so there's that XD  
> 4.)I was reading up on stuff and apparently Jamie's is a poorer family and it's a single mom household. Okay, same. *sniffs* I feel ya bro *okay I'll stahp* oh and oml did you see Jamie's mad art skills??? XD We're both artists! OMG! Okay, being serious I am a pretty good artist (so I've been told) and he doodles but that one doesn't count: I'm being silly. :)  
> 5.) He's fricken brown headed but has a BLONDE sister! EVERYONE in my family has blonde hair and blue eyes! AND I HAVE BROWN and RED LIKE WHET. D: but actually one of my sisters is also redheaded (I get it from my dad but she has a different dad?? but we look like twins and so do me and my only pureblood brother *vampires jk* except he's blonde w/ teal eyes but then my other sister has dark brown hair and green eyes ;-;)  
> 6.) and this one is just that I'm pretty sure there's a demonic Pichu on the poster of monsters above Jamie's bed 0.0  
> Yeah, look at me. I've done it AGAIN. I'm so infamous for extremely long author notes...or I should be anyway...  
> But I hope that you enjoyed and that my A/N helped you to get to know me a bit better. I love to interact with you guys and so I thought that you should know me a little too. But I hope to see you in the next chapter, but for now, stay fabulous lovelies :D
> 
> ~Sensei *tries to cram in everything*


	7. Vagary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, my chapter titles suck. Do I care? Uhh...sort of but that's not the point. XD

  He was avoiding him. There was no way you could look at it and come to any other conclusion.

  It wasn't like he _wanted_  to, but it just sort of ended up that way, or so he liked to say. Jack sighed for the billionth time as he sat in North's workshop once again. The older man almost always had a jolly air about him, so he'd decided to visit since he needed some major joy right about now, except what he didn't expect was to just be sitting there doing nothing like he always found himself doing.

  _I really need a hobby_. Jack put his head down on the intricately carved desk, peeking his eyes above his arms as he watched North carve in the final details of little ice figures. Jack had thought that just being here would help with his overbearing sense of depression, but the more he sat there the more he realized that he needed some help to sort out his mess of a brain. Except he couldn't ask North, or any of the Guardians for that matter:

  Because it was about Pitch. 

  Jack groaned in frustration and nuzzled his face into the cool cloth of his elbow. Scrunching his face as much as he could and then rubbing vigorously at his eyes, Jack stretched out his legs and flopped lifelessly back onto the table.

  "You alright?" Jack flinched at the sound of North's voice, having completely forgotten that he was even there. Jack looked up at him, the need to ask for advice suddenly hitting him like a train, and then averted his gaze quickly. 

  "Yeah," Jack mumbled. "I'm okay." He breathed out yet another soft sigh, the guilt of betraying the very man sitting before him festering within his lungs and dragging his mood down even further. He had never really kept secrets before, after all, he'd never really had any friends up until this point to even tell him secrets or to keep secrets from, but Jack couldn't even begin to comprehend just how hard it was. He wanted to just spill everything, to rip it out of his chest and throw it up onto the table for everyone to see, but Jack found that the more he needed to tell someone, the tighter his lips closed. 

  "You sure? You look little strange, Jack. Not like you to be so quiet." North's attention was completely on him now, and a part of him wanted to just melt into the floor, the other part still thinking helplessly about Pitch and thinking that it'd be really helpful if he too could just morph into shadow at will. Of course, he was no where close to a power that remotely allowed him to disappear, so he just had to do it like he always did and come up with some fabrication. 

  "I'm totally fine. I guess I'm just a bit bogged down from the season change." North smiled softly at him in a reassuring kind of way, and Jack felt more guilt pile on top of him. 

  "You could stay here for few days, if you want." The larger man suggested, returning his gaze back to his ice sculpting. Jack wasn't sure if it was really necessary to stay, but perhaps if he stayed away from home for awhile then his mind would sort itself out. After all, he'd never experienced something quite like the strange emotions that seemed to have just dropped into his lap, so maybe all he needed was a change of pace...

  "That sounds quite nice, actually. Get away from home for the time being I guess." North was still smiling, even despite not looking at him. 

  "Very good, I'll have yeti's prepare you a room."

  "Nah, that's fine, North. I like using the unused room upstairs." Jack has stayed the night here before, and there was just something about the upstairs, empty attic room that made Jack feel safe. He always figured it was because he was used to sleeping in trees or on his frozen lake, so sleeping in a bed just never allowed him to doze off, even if he didn't really need rest anyway. The room had a darker feel to it, but in a cozy way; sort of like when you huddle under a blanket, sheltered away from the world.

  "Hah, I should have figured. You're not one for formalities, after all." Jack smiled softly and thanked the man before exiting the small workshop space and into the emptiness of the open building. Usually this place would be bustling with elves and yetis, the air full of delightful contraptions that whizzed by, but Christmas had just passed not too long ago, and North always agreed to give everyone a couple breaks come spring. Of course, once the last few days of March ended and the season was in full bloom, so too was everyone's work ethic and the workshop would be alive again. As of right now though, the place was exactly how Jack liked it: nice and quiet.

  Deciding that using the lift was too much effort, Jack whispered to the wind to lift him higher and to the Globe Room balconies. Among many doors to other winding passages and sets of rooms, there was one older looking entrance tucked away in a corner, sealed with a thick piece of oak; it's hinges were a bit creaky and the door handle somewhat loose. Jack didn't mind it, in fact, he actually preferred the room to be a bit run down since it reminded him of deeper meanings and the imperfect facts about life. It was something real amidst all of the picturesque things decorating the workshop. It was probably the reason he didn't visit North all too often; the place was jolly in a good way, yes, but all of the happiness seemed to be somewhat suffocating after a while. Not hesitating to open the door, Jack grabbed the handle and felt somewhat better as he entered the slightly damp room. 

  The inside was musky smelling but well kempt and clean; Jack had made sure of that the first time he had found the room. There were two medium sized french windows that made their way almost to the ceiling from the floor, and since the whole place was embedded in ice, the light that they did bring in was a dull grey-blue, especially since the room itself was facing away from the sun. The space was small, just like an attic type room was expected to be, and so it was devoid of any type of furniture. Not that Jack needed any. With a content sigh, he closed the door behind him, curled up by one of the windows, and stared out at the ice caps and the pieces of building poking out from underneath the snow. Where his room was located, it seemed almost as if the ice towered around in a bowl like shape, casting shadows over anything within. It gave everything a cold feeling to accompany the physical chill. He sat there a while, contemplating life and wondering about trivial things until finally he realized he'd succeeded in getting Pitch off his mind.

  Obviously realizing that, though, had just put the man right back in his head. 

  Jack closed his eyes and groaned. From underneath his eyelids images of the Boogeyman formed in his thoughts and he suddenly felt a heavy sense of loneliness hit him hard. He opened his eyes again to stare out the window, but his vision was blurred by unshed tears. Why was he like this? What inside of him had changed? Jack was used to always being alone but now, even if he knew he could just go downstairs and visit North, without having Pitch here he felt like life was almost empty. He knew that he didn't really want to, but he missed Pitch, and realizing that suddenly made him rather exhausted. He rubbed away his tears, which froze to his hoodie sleeve, and closed his eyes again to try to get some sleep. 

\---

  Darkness surrounded him and, even though he thought he was standing, it felt as if he we're placed on some _extremely_ comfortable bed with silk sheets. There, however, was no such thing, just the blackness surrounding him, except it wasn't shadow, since he himself was not obscured by it; he merely floated in it and was completely untouched by it.

  But Jack felt himself longing to touch it, wanting to be touched by it, and his heart ached as reached his hand out only to realize that the shadows we're there and yet no where close. Jack lowered his head and tightened his jaw as he tried to control the swell of emotion within his chest. 

  That's when he felt it.

  It was so subtle, but enough to make Jack snap his head back up to look around, except there was nothing. He _had_  felt a breath. A very warm breath, to be exact, and even though he knew not from who or where it came, he found himself wanting to feel it again because it had felt so damn _good._  

  Jack was used to having strange feelings as of late, but this time he wasn't quite sure _what_  his body was longing for. He suddenly felt his limbs grow heavy, even if he wasn't really the one keeping himself up all this time anyway, and he felt rather lightheaded. 

  _What is this?_

  A chuckle echoed from within the darkness and suddenly tendrils of it began to swirl up his legs, but oddly enough, Jack was not afraid. The shadows continued to climb him, the strange feeling growing until Jack suddenly realized that it was some form of desire. The shadows then stopped at his chest, his arms unmovable.

  "Why, I would never have expected something like this from someone like you, _Jack Frost."_  From out of the darkness, the Nightmare King himself appeared, a wicked grin on his face. He would have felt happy to see him, had his mind not been plagued by whatever was happening to him, and even if he had been entirely cognizant, he could tell that this image was not truly Pitch. It was just a facade--a fabrication of his mind--but that didn't stop him from wanting to _touch._

Jack tensed his entire body, the shadows that clutched him restricted any form of movement.

  "Pitch..." Jack whispered wantonly, his voice sounding foreign; even to himself.

  _What is going on? What's happening to me?_ But Jack's mind went blank as a soft, involuntary moan suddenly escaped his lips. The shadows crawled farther still, making his skin tingle at the sensation.

  "Oh, my. Jack's all _grown up_." The fake Pitch chuckled again as the shadows covered Jack's face, and obscured his vision; sending him into a darkness that, this time, suffocated him and plunged him into a fear almost worse than death. 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> MWAHAHAHAHAH OH GOD I FEEL SO GREAT. :D
> 
> This chapter--It was incredibly enjoyable to write. I usually don't like writing North, I've found (cuz this is my first ROTG fanfic so I haven't really written him till now) because I feel like I'm fucking up his accent, but NOT TODAY! XD I just, even if I got stuck on North, really liked writing about Jack's little room for some reason and I just liked imagining the workshop all quiet and then the image (which I hopefully painted for you well enough :0) of the view from his windows and just his room's atmosphere--oh geez I just loved it all.
> 
> And I have NO idea why. :D That's what makes it great. hehehe 
> 
> Ah, I'm all giddy now and Jack is getting all worked up on his own, poor darling XD
> 
> Anyway, I have a massive migraine...oh jesus my head but I'm so happy whatever!~ Umm...but..what was I saying? Oh yeah, I've really gotta go cuz It's 1:40am and I have to get up at 5 so...
> 
> But please enjoy! I just love you all so much and this story doesn't even have an ending/ is going nowhere but who the hell cares!?
> 
> Stay so so fabulous!~
> 
> :) Sensei


	8. The Calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack realizes that, maybe he has feelings for the Boogeyman, and just maybe he is sort of accepting them.

  Jack gasped as he was evicted from the realm of nightmares, a sickening feeling washing over him as his eyes ripped open. His mind was muddled hazily, and he gripped his stomach as he curled into a ball; a wicked cough racked his entire body. His skin was covered by a sheen of icy sweat.

  _Oh god, oh god._ His mind chanted repeatedly as he trembled violently. Jack took his head in his hands and breathed heavily; a strange, almost ravaged feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

  Where was he again? His entire being was submerged in a feeling of confusion. Why was he here? What was he doing? Jack squeezed his eyes shut as he desperately tried to calm his frantic heartbeat, his hands forcefully tangled in his white hair. 

  Then a quiet knock sounded at the door.

  Jack shot his head up, a slight dizzy feeling over taking him. He froze.

  "Jack?" The soft voice questioned from the other side. "It's me, Toothiana." She reassured him, but Jack felt anything but. Before he could say anything, the door opened slightly. It was only then that Jack realized that the room was swathed in darkness; the light from the entrance pouring in but leaving him obscured by shadow.

  "Jack?" She called again. "What's wrong?" Tooth sounded genuinely worried for him, but Jack was quite sure that she couldn't truly see him, just his contrast against the rest of the darkness, and a part of him wished that she couldn't see even that. The door opened more when Jack didn't respond, this time the light shining completely on him. Jack didn't even flinch as he heard Tooth gasp. 

  "What's happened, Jack?" She questioned, a look of surprise on her face. Jack looked up at her silhouette, squinting from the light, and let out a shaky breath. He could not think of anything to say and he suddenly felt the overwhelming desire to bolt.

  "I-I..." Jack closed his eyes and furrowed his brow as Tooth flew next to him and sat on her knees, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  "I heard you shouting." She said softly to him, and he could tell that she wanted him to say why. Only, Jack didn't know why; more specifically, he didn't remember. He could vaguely recall the image of Pitch and the sound of his demented laugh...

  "Uhh...I...it's..." Jack averted his gaze to stare into the darkness and hesitated for a moment. "Just a nightmare." He finally got out, sighing softly as his body began to calm down. "I'm fine." Tooth didn't really seem to believe him from what he could see of her face.

  "Are you sure you're fine? You sounded like you were..." She trailed off. Jack frowned as he regained his breath. Her face seemed conflicted, as if she didn't even believe what she was going to say. Jack's stomach tossed a bit as he began to fear the worse; bits of his dream were returning painfully slow.

  "Like I was...?" He asked softly. The atmosphere grew awkward.

  "It's just--You were calling out Pitch's name so I was worried something had happened." She said at last. Jack felt his face grow suddenly warm, and he thanked the moon that it was too dark to see as he was sure his skin was stained with a light blush.

  _Calling out Pitch's name?_ He said to himself slowly in his mind as he remembered everything suddenly. _Oh god, but that means..._

  "I-I don't really remember...uh...my dream, that is." Jack felt like choking as he held back a nervous chuckle. "But I-I'm sure it was nothing." Jack pursed his lips. He couldn't tell if Tooth believed him, but he hoped more than anything that she would. 

  "Are you sure you don't need anything? Maybe Sandy could help you with--"

  "No!" Jack said all too suddenly, then cleared his throat. "Uhh, I mean, that's alright. No need to bother him since he's busy." Jack said quickly; not wanting to get the Sandman involved fro several reasons. Not only could Sandy always seem to peer straight through his lies, but dreams were kind of his _thing._ Jack didn't want to risk anything of what happened last night somehow leaking. He could tell that Tooth was silently questioning his strange behaviour, and suddenly he felt like he really should have just stayed in that Antarctic trench all that time ago.

  "Well," She hesitated. "If you need us for anything, Jack, we're all here, alright?" Jack just nodded, not completely sure f she saw him, but when she flew silently out of the room and closed the door behind her, Jack let out a sigh. The silence quickly flooded in around him and he found himself shivering at the strange feeling prickling at the back of his neck. 

  Jack swallowed hard as he thought back to his dream. Never before had he ever felt so desperate for something in his life. Jack honestly wasn't sure what he had wanted, but he knew more than anything that he had _needed_ Pitch. 

  And, if he weren't lying to himself, he wasn't entirely sure in what kind of way.

  The last time he had been to the Boogeyman's lair, Jack had felt rather awful. It had all started with his innocent and funny idea to bring the older spirit a popsicle, but then somehow he just couldn't prevent himself from going back every other day after his success; that eventually turning to every day. By the time Jack had realized something was changing, the new outlook he had of Pitch had already planted itself in his mind--his emotions as well--and had already begun to grow until Jack found himself reluctant to even see the man. And it wasn't that he started despising Pitch over time, but rather, he was afraid that the shade might have noticed how clumsy he had suddenly found himself being around him. He was scared that Pitch would hear how his heart would become frantic whenever Jack got close enough to him, or how his breath hitched in his throat when he accidentally brushed against him. However, the one thing that Jack was terrified of most was, not that Pitch would notice his change of behaviour, but that he would begin to sense his newfound fears. And the last thing he needed was Pitch to ask him something like, _'What has you so afraid of me suddenly?'_ Or to make some snarky comment like, _'So NOW you fear me, you brat?'_ Because Jack didn't fear him, and he didn't want to explain to him _why_ he was afraid.

  Jack huffed out an irritated yet sorrowful breath as he dropped his head back into his hands.

  "I can't keep on like this." He mumbled pitifully to himself, the urge to curl up and die stronger than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter together with the next so notes are over there :D


	9. Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pitch, too, is starting to realize that he might just have a touch of lovey-ish feelings for the Frost Sprite, but...he's having a bit more trouble coming to terms with it. :) Also, Jack is still sort of missing.

 

   "I can't keep doing this." Pitch groaned irritably at himself as his rubbed his temples. Nonstop, ever since Jack had gone missing, he had done absolutely nothing unless it was one of six things, which consisted of:

  A.) Worrying about Jack.

  B.) Looking for Jack.

  C.) Trying to recall if he did anything that would make Jack hate him.

  D.) Hating Jack.

  E.) Thinking needlessly about Jack, and

  F.) Feeling rather abandoned by Jack.

  The last one being the main reason why he was also silently hating himself. Pitch didn't want to admit it to his own mind, hell, he didn't even want to think it was true, but, considering these rather frustrating circumstances, there was no denying the fact that he truly did miss Jack.

  Or the fact that he was jealous of Jamie, and the Guardians, and the moon, and the damn _wind_ because if there was one thing that they all knew that he didn't, it was simply Jack. Where he was, why he went there, what he was doing, how he was feeling; they knew his perfections and his flaws, his very essence and personality, and he simply did _not._ Pitch wasn't afraid of admitting that he felt betrayed by the younger, after all, the boy had forced his way into his life and, just when he had finally started to think they could get along, he just _disappeared._ Feeling betrayed is reasonably understandable, but he'd be damned if he ever confessed to having feelings such as _jealousy._ Because he was most certainly not some sort of love-struck maiden. Pitch frowned.

  _Love...?_ It was a ludicrous idea, one that had never struck him till now. Pitch scoffed harshly and shook his head.

  "No, no, no." He growled. "I'm not even friends with that annoying little twit, let alone in _love_ with him..." He said aloud to convince himself of the fact, but even then he wasn't too sure why he felt so uncertain. He was the bad guy; he wasn't supposed to be indecisive, but the more he tried to tell himself that he hated Jack, the less he seemed to believe himself. The thought that he left because he'd decided he was done with him crossed his mind suddenly, making Pitch purse his lips as he felt his stomach grow uneasy. The very idea that Jack hated him made his lifeless heart clench. The man sighed.

  _Really, where have you run off to, Jack Frost?_

_\---_

Pitch swirled around his quaint kitchenette in a dancing sort of way, grabbing different tiny bowls or spoons off of his black marble counters and then proceeding to make himself a glass of tea.

  "Jack is gone!~" He sung aloud to himself in a chippy voice. "Frost is GONE!~" Continuing to prance around the space, he smiled with sharp teeth as he finished up and began putting certain things away.

  "The brat is G.O.N.E." He shouted happily as he did a final twirl. " _GONE!"_ Finding himself back at the counter with his tea cup, all of the things used to make it cleaned and back in their designated places, Pitch's smile quickly faded into something more somber. His voice echoed throughout the dark, underground chambers. 

  _Gone._ It said, over and over, and after a moment it seemed to turn into a question, almost taunting him.

  "Jack is gone." Pitch whispered to himself, suddenly not feeling in the mood for tea.

\---

  "Hmm..." Pitch hummed to himself, sitting in his library with his thin framed reading glasses perched at the end of his nose. "Let's see." With nimble fingers, he flipped through the pages of a dictionary.

  "G...F...No, oh wait, there's C...ah, here!" He exclaimed as he found the section labeled _B_ and searched for himself. He cleared his throat.

  "Alright, _Bogeyman."_ He began. "Also spelled, _Bogeyman, Boogeyman, Boogerman, Boogieman..._ Wait, what?" He frowned. " _Boogerman!?_ What the hell do these insolent mortals think I am!?" Pitch scoffed, but continued. 

  "Hmph, anyway. _Bogeyman,"_ Pitch chuckled wickedly. "An imaginary--I _see_ how it is--evil character of supernatural powers, especially a mythical Hobgoblin said to carry off..." Pitch trailed off, letting out an irritated huff of breath.

  " _Hobgoblin? Really?"_ He hissed, feeling rather insulted as he threw the book onto the table; the book flipping to a random page as he did so. "I am no _Hobgoblin."_ He pouted to himself. Pitch glared at the offending book only to have something catch his eye. Something that only could have happened by bat shit crazy chance, or because someone was teasing him. It was an entry in section _J._

"Jack Frost." He mumbled quietly as he adjusted his glasses to read what it had to say. "Noun. Frost of freezing cold...personified." Pitch frowned, feeling rather bad for the missing sprite. Although mortals eventually stopped believing in him because they, 'got too old,' or they just simply stopped caring about what was lurking beneath their beds, at least he was something; imaginary or not.

  All they thought of Jack was that he was the season of Winter, and although that wasn't entirely false, it meant that no human who didn't even care to consider that spirits did exist would only ever and always believe Jack to be nothing more than a figurative concept of language. Not an imaginary hobgoblin, not a children's story like the Guardians were, and not even something to whip children into shape or make them better as people overtime; Jack was nothing to them but an easy way to describe the cold.

  And for some reason that felt more than just wrong.

\---

  Needless to say, Pitch was exhausted. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried to make it seemed like he didn't care or was glad Jack was gone, he always ended up in a sour mood come morning. Flopping down onto the black silk sheets of his degraded king sized canopy bed, he let out a groan as he rolled over onto his side. 

  "Honestly." He mumbled to himself, the heaviness of sleep creeping up on the weary king as he tucked his arm beneath his head, a thousand thoughts lazily running through his mind, almost all of them consisting of Jack. 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> Sooo I wrote this chapter and the last at the same time and just decided to split them up. Right now I'm kind of Developing Pitch's feelings for Jack and we're gonna see how he's going to deal with that, and then on Jack's end it's the same, only he's coming to terms with it much faster so it's quickly going to go from, "I'm pretty sure I love Pitch," to, "I know I love Pitch, but now I can't let the Guardians know," because Tooth is already hot on his trail and, as the summary said, Jack is going to have to choose eventually...but whoever will he really choose in the end?
> 
> You're all gonna say he's going to choose Pitch. Typical love story right? Well, I can't tell you, but what I can say is that you're not wrong but you are most certainly not right either >:D If you've read any of my other works you guys KNOW I have all of the plot twist pain in my fingers and I bleed it onto the screen through my keys. You're very welcome to all of you who I have killed in the past because of that~
> 
> I'm gonna end it. I had good fun on this too, and we're going pretty strong, so see ya in the next chapter, yeah?


	10. Schizophrenia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time for confliction is over.

  If there was one thing about being a Guardian that Jack didn't understand, it would have to be the extreme amount of hard work that the others put forward to be able to make their deadlines. Christmas had just ended--Easter too--and yet both North and Bunnymund were back to work with such fervour that it rivaled even the roaring of Poseidon's seas (but Jack would never tell the water God that anyone came close to his extremities, especially since he preferred not to be eviscerated). Toothiana and Sanderson were always busy no matter what time of the year it was, so they were usually racing to get that last dream in before midnight or the final tooth collected before sunrise. Jack, on the other hand, lounged happily around all day doing, quite literally, nothing. 

  As happily as he could get, anyway, because what was the Guardian of fun without any noses to nip? Jack's boredom was starting to creep up on him again, despite how hard he tried to ignore it. He also knew that he could easily leave North's hearth any time he pleased, but a dreadful feeling lurked at the edge of his mind, telling him not to leave the safety of the strangely warm, ice built palace lest the _Boogeyman_   get him. 

  Jack wasn't quite sure what Pitch would say if he happened to bump into him if he went outside, but it wasn't as if he needed protection from the King himself. No, Jack was far beyond that point, but he would be lying if he said that he wasn't afraid to see the other man. After all, Jack had just upped and left, ending their visits and cutting off any connection to the shade without warning, and Jack wasn't sure if Pitch would be angry, frustrated, upset...Of course, Jack had dealt with the wrath of the angry demon wraith before--on multiple occasions actually--so it wasn't as if he couldn't deal with being yelled at or beaten a little harsher than the normal fare, but what he was really scared of was going back to the man but only to be told that his lack of presence wasn't even given a second thought. That he wasn't _missed_. 

  Jack shook his head slightly as he rested on the railing of the balcony that overlooked the rest of the grand workshop as it buzzed with life, his being there simply ignored by the myriad of yetis and elves that rushed about frantically. Glancing down at one of said elves as it rushed by with a round blue ornament in hand, Jack smacked the poor thing with his staff,  instantly freezing it and causing it to fall lifeless to the floor. Jack frowned, a disinterested yawn escaping his pale pink lips.

  _What a dull day._  

  Suddenly calling upon the wind to lift him from his resting place and through the tall arches and hallways of the busy pole, easily dodging flying toys or elves that somehow seemed to become airborne as he did so, Jack made his way out of the mess and into the quiet of the large, somewhat unused kitchen. There was one thing that Jack technically didn't need, but that always seemed to raise his spirits, and that thing just happened to be ice cream. The poor boy was simply addicted.

  Vanilla, strawberry, chocolate, mint, sea salt toffee, butter pecan, cookie dough, all manners of sorbet, coffee flavours, cookies n' cream, peanut butter, lemon and lime, orange pineapple, cherry, grape nut, rum raisin--the list goes _on_. Jack, of course, loved them all, and he'd most likely cry if you told him he had to pick only one flavour as his favourite. Walking over to the long oak table--similar to the one in North's office--Jack set down his staff before walking over to the wooden counters which were topped with a polished white marble. Standing on his tippy-toes to open one of the cabinets above the built in sink, Jack pulled out the light blue glass bowl that he'd long ago claimed as his own, and proceeded to set it on the table as well. Once he'd fished out a spoon from the drawer that he always failed to keep organised, he opened the freezer and instantly his smile faded.

  There was nothing. Jack huffed from irritation as he stuck his head and upper body into the freezer to make _sure_  he wasn't just missing it, or that one of the elves hadn't just decided to play a trick on him and hide it in the back. There was absolutely nothing. 

  "Aww, come _on!"_  Jack groaned, sticking himself deeper into the cramped freezer. "I know I still had some!" He whined.

  "What are you doin' mate?" Jack jumped at the sudden accent laden voice, jerking hard and slamming his head into the top of the freezer. Ripping himself out of the appliance, he instantly lifted his hands to grip his now pounding skull. Bunny looked at him sympathetically.

  "You alright? I didn't mean to startle ya, Frostbite." Jack grimaced from pain.

  "Owww." The frost sprite shook his head slightly to regain his composure. "I-I'm fine." He mumbled. 

  "What were you doin' in the ice box?" Bunny said with a small chuckle, now that he knew that Jack was okay. The boy made a pouting face.

  "Someone ate my ice cream," He sighed. "And I was so looking forward to it." Jack shrugged as he rubbed the sleeve of his shirt in thought. "Guess there's nothing I can do about it though." He felt Bunny's stare and looked up at the pooka. 

  "Tooth said you've been actin' weird lately so I've been meaning to talk to ya. What's got your head in a knot, huh?" Jack felt awkward at the sudden subject change and caring attention that he was receiving from the rabbit. He rubbed at the sleeve of his sweater as he lowered his gaze. Jack knew that he was terrible at keeping secrets, especially from the other Guardians, and if Tooth had suspected something was wrong, then that meant his facade was slipping. More than anything, Jack knew that he couldn't let the others know about Pitch; how the Nightmare King lived on, about his secret visits, andcertainly _not_  the strange dreams--or _thoughts--_ that he's been having about the man.

  "I'm fine," Jack said, his voice sounded strangely more confident than he felt, his gaze still averted. "It's just that..." he hesitated before letting out a sigh and looking up at Bunny. "I don't really have anywhere else to go, ya know, cause it's getting warm in Burgess."

  _**Lies.**_  A voice in the back of his mind hissed, and it strangely sounded just like Pitch, making Jack jump slightly. His stomach churned, a guilty feeling suddenly festering inside him.

  "I-I mean, I guess I could go east or maybe south or something...since it's getting colder there. B-But I don't really have anywhere in _particular_..."

  The voice tisked. _**Lies again;**_ ** _You've always liked Greenland. What about there?_** It chuckled.

  "No...uhh, I just thought I'd visit since I have nothing to do..."

  **_Really?_**

"Yeah, I wanted to visit cause I don't see you guys all too often..."

  **_It's not like they wanted to see you._**

"B-But I guess you guys are too busy to see me..."

  _**You're just in their way.**_

"I'll just get in the way...I could be doing something useful...I-I could be..."

  _**Visiting Pitch.**_ Jack swallowed hard as he furrowed his brow.

  **_What if you've upset him? What if he doesn't care? What if he knows you're avoiding him? You won't know until you go~_**

  "Stop." Jack mumbled quietly to the voice, closing his eyes and hanging his head low. He flinched back when he felt Bunny grab his shoulder.

  "Jack?" The rabbit questioned, and it made Jack wonder why Bunny was being so nice anyway. He was never like this, so why was he so out of character now?

  _**He's probably buttering you up; tricking you.**_

 _Shut up!_ Jack snapped to the voice inaudibly. _You don't know anything, so be quiet! I didn't ask for your input._

 _ **I didn't say you did.**_ It laughed. Jack huffed and focused back on reality.

  "Sorry, Bunny." He sighed to the other. "A lot's been going on. I mean, It's only been four years since we defeated...Pitch," Jack's breath hitched in his throat as he said the man's name aloud. "There's nothing to worry about since he's gone..."

  **_There you go, lying again._**

  "So what am I supposed to do now? Before I was a Guardian I was nothing but I had a purpose. And that purpose was to discover my purpose..." Jack scrunched his brows. "But now that I know everything from my memories, what am I supposed to do? Why am I here?"

  "You're a guardian, mate. That's what you do. You protect fun." Bunny smiled at him reassuringly.

  "But you all have your holidays; you've got Easter and North has Christmas. Tooth and Sandy have their dreams and teeth. I have fun, yes, but if you get down to it, fun is the product of a natural state of mind. Whether I'm here or not that human emotion still stays. Without all of you, inspiration and wonder would vanish and the world would be thrown into another dark age, but without me...?" Jack groaned, placing his hands on either side of his head and rubbing at his hair frustrated.

  _**Being deep now, are we? You should stick to being the stupidly oblivious boy. It's not befitting of you to act so philosophical.**_

Bunny stared at Jack for a moment, a worried expression on his furry face.

  "Well it is true that we've all got our own unique thing," he began, "But, mate, you don't always have to do something great to be important." Jack looked up at him and frowned.

  "What do you mean?" 

  "I mean that, just because ya don't have something entirely unique like the rest of us, doesn't mean that without ya nothin' would change." Bunny explained. "Sure, all ya do is freeze water pipes, mess with my egg hunts, and cause snow days, but that's exactly why you're important. Without ya, winter'd just be winter and people'd still be afraid of it like in the dark ages." 

  Jack suddenly understood. Each Guardian was chosen to keep away fear. Winter around the  the 1300's was a dreaded phase of nature that always killed off thousands. Everyone was afraid, so terribly afraid of _everything._ Jack was chosen, like the rest of the guardians, to disperse that fear; his job just happened to be cleansing the fear from the snow. While saving his sister, he was terrified. His bare feet against the ice felt insanely torturous, his heart was unbelievably frantic from the fear of losing her to the icy waters, and yet he did his best to make the situation fun, to chase the fear away. His job now, in this life, was to do the same, only for everyone, and keep it that way. As a Guardian, or just as himself. Just as Jack Frost. 

  "Ya understand, don't ya frostbite? You're just as important as the rest of us. Think of my Easter as your Winter if it makes ya feel any better." Bunny smiled at him again, and Jack forced a smile in return as the Pooka turned and walked out of the room. 

  _**Pfft. That's pathetic.**_  The voice laughed within his mind once again, and Jack suddenly felt the need to be alone, despite being the only one in the room.

  _**He didn't even give you a proper answer. Your usefulness was exhausted once the middle ages began to decline. You're worthless now.**_

"Urgh, Shut up!" Jack glared at the ground as he growled at his conflicting thoughts.

  **_You were just used._**

"Shut up! You're wrong!"

  _**Killed off then changed into something pragmatic. They don't really need you. Not anymore.**_

Jack gripped his head and sank to the floor as he wheezed angrily. A thin layer of frost fanned out onto the floor as he leaned himself against the counter and wrapped his arms around his torso, bringing his knees up to sit in a fetal position. It was quiet for a moment, the only sounds being his breathing and the low rumble of activity coming from the main workshop.

  **_Do you see? I'm the only one that doesn't lie to you._**

__ _Leave me alone._

_**All those years ago too. I proved to be right, didn't I?** _

**** _Please._

_**Didn't I, Jack?**_ He hesitated for a moment, a heavy feeling clinging to his chest. He sighed softly.

  _Yeah...you did._ A tear ran down Jack's face and frosted over his cheeks as he closed his eyes, a migraine suddenly pounding within his skull.

  _**I've never lied to you, have I?**_

**** _No..._

**So trust me when I say they're just using you.** Jack didn't know what to  believe. It was true that this part of himself had never been wrong before, or so Jack could remember, but he just couldn't believe that the Guardians would really take him in if they didn't trust him. If they were just using him. Wouldn't they have gotten rid of him by now if that was the case? Or are they still using him, even now? Jack groaned as he rubbed at his brow to try and still his sudden dizziness. Anxiety was such a fickle thing.

  _What am I supposed to do then? I don't want to be alone again, but I don't have anything else...anyone else._ The voice chuckled softly.

  **_They you go...lying yet again._**  A sudden realisation struck him as one particular person filtered into his mind. 

  "Pitch." Jack whispered to himself as he sat up straight. 

  _But I don't know Pitch's opinion...what he'll do, or if he want's to even see me. He probably doesn't even care that I left...he thought I was a nuisance before..._

   The room suddenly felt extraordinarily empty, and the urge to leave arose within him. Jack wasn't entirely sure what he felt towards Pitch--it was sure to cause tension with the Guardians if they found out--but the one thing that Jack did know was that he wanted to see him.  _Desperately_  wanted to see him, and whether the Guardians would hate him for it or if it was against the rules, Jack didn't care. He needed someone, now more than ever, that he didn't have to lie to, didn't have to watch his words in front of, and someone that just _got him._

  And Pitch was the only one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> D: gah ;-;
> 
> Meeeeeh so I got another chapter done? I dunno if this story is making any sense by this point but I promise...I promise...It's gonna be fine. *quotes for the win*
> 
> I really feel so bad for this late update but, like I said a while ago, life is really catching up with me. ;-; 
> 
> School takes up 3/4 of my time (but I have been sneaking a couple paragraphs at a time in digital literacy XD) and when I'm not doing that, I'm worrying about my house. I won't bore you with the details, but let's just say that if we can't figure this shit out, there's a 45% chance that we won't have anywhere to go. Although that's less than half, it's still a high percentage...Pitch is having a field day rn with all of my fear vibes goin' on *sigh*
> 
> The worst part about all of this is that, since the season is changing, I've got a cold -_- snot everywhere, coughing fits, and I sound like I just deep throated a baseball bat full of nails...yeah, anyway, it's not pretty XD 
> 
> But here we are! I'm getting there, slowly yet surely. I don't really know what happened in this chapter (idk what happens ever) but I'm trying to keep a tight reign on my stupidity. :3 I'm trying to stay on the path and not go out into no man's land. And I'm trying so hard not to make the them too OOC ;-; I'm failing so hard rn XD
> 
> But Thank you all so so much for reading and putting up with my crap. I know I can be annoying sometimes :3 It means a lot that you come back even if my updates are few and far between. Stay lovely~
> 
> *kiss kiss*
> 
> Sensei


	11. Compromised

Jack pulled himself off of the floor, wiping his eyes as he did so. Grabbing his staff and making to leave the room, he was surprised when North burst through the door before he could even touch the handle. Jack flinched back, startled.

"Jack!" The man all but shouted when he saw him. "Are you alright?" Jack was taken aback by the frantic worry in the larger man's voice.

"I-I'm fine?" Jack said, not too sure why North seemed to think something had happened to him. Before Jack even had time to think, North put his hand somewhat forcefully on his shoulder and led him out of the room,  the glint of a single twin saber in the man's other hand catching Jack's eye. He swallowed hard.

"North, w-what's happened?" A surge of panic washed over him.

"It's Pitch." Jack felt his stomach drop.

"P-Pitch...?" He breathed, almost as a whisper. How had they found out? Jack was more than sure that he hadn't revealed anything that would've hinted at the Nightmare King's existence and, although he'd been a mess of confusion and emotions lately, he had made sure that none of the others would have thought anything except that he'd been affected by the weather change.

_So what happened? Did Pitch...a-attack someone? He wouldn't do that...not now...w-would he?_

"Nightmare was caught lurking around outside." North said sternly as he led Jack into the Globe room. Keeping his hand on his shoulder, he bent down to look Jack in the eyes.

"Listen, Jack." He said softly, his face still full of worry. "We're going after the Nightmare. I want you to stay at the Pole." Jack stared at him quizzically.

"Wait, why?" He questioned, a frantic feeling slithering beneath his ribs. North looked at him somewhat conflicted.

"Jack," He began, almost awkwardly, bringing a large hand up to his face to rub thoughtfully at his beard. Jack could almost hear his heart thundering against his chest as a thick silence flooded in to the, once again, strangely empty workshop, only this time it was eerie. "It's just...you've been strange of late. We worry for you." Jack frowned.

"B-But, if Pitch is back then..." Jack glared down at the floor, his mind muddled with conflicting thoughts. If he went with them, then that meant he had to fight _against_ Pitch, but if he stayed here, then he knew that he'd be plagued by worry for the Guardians and the Boogeyman. Jack was torn. There was no way he could fight in this emotional state, the others could tell as well, and even if he did confront the Nightmare King, he knew there was no way he could actually fight him. The others could possibly deem him a traitor.

However, that didn't change the fact that he still wanted to see him.

"If Pitch is back you'll need all the man power you can get. You all saw how effective I was against him that once, so I should go with." Jack said, swallowing the lump in his throat. North sighed softly.

"Jack, we all know how powerful you are, there's no denying, but we all have times when we are weak. You are not well." North pat him on the back. "We can take care of matter without you this time. Stay here and rest. There's no need to worry." With one final pat, North grabbed his other saber and walked towards the lift before Jack had time to argue further. With a smile and a wink, he vanished into the bowels of the workshop, leaving Jack alone with his thoughts.

"Not well?" Jack mumbled to himself, thrusting his hand into the pocket of his hoodie and tightening the grip on his staff, his head hung. A strangled feeling burrowed within him, and he suddenly felt more useless than ever before.

"I know Bunny said I was important in my own way, but still..."

 _I don't DO anything...and now? Now they can just, 'solve the matter without me?'_ There was no denying the fact that North's words had hurt. Jack sighed as he made his way to his favourite spot to think by the large windows. Plopping down onto the window seat, Jack groaned.

"Why am I even here?" He gazed out at the arctic landscape, scowling as he watched the sleigh dash off of the launch platform, staring at the empty space it left when it vanished into a bright portal depicting Burgess.

 _ **Jamie will be in for a surprise.**_ Jack said nothing and just stared out the windows for a minute before speaking.

"Yeah, if he sees them anyway."

 ** _True, they are known for their discreetness._** The voice stayed silent for a moment and Jack didn't budge.

 ** _Hey now,_** It began. **_It's not like us to be so depressingly boring._** Jack closed his eyes and huffed.

"It's not like we can do anything about it either. North said to stay here and rest," Jack waved his hand absentmindedly in a dismissive sort of way. "So I'm resting."

 _ **Didn't we already establish that there are much better things you could be doing? Namely, oh I don't know, visiting Pitch?**_ Jack scoffed.

"Are you stupid?" He hissed and the voice made an offended noise. "I can't just, _'visit Pitch.'"_ As if to emphasize his point, Jack air quoted then crossed his arms. "Not only did he get himself caught like an idiot, but the others are heading there now. If I were to be seen with Pitch it'd be a nightmare." It laughed.

_**What's to say they'll even find him?** _

"They're trailing one of his horses, remember? It'll lead them right to him." Jack stared back out the window, his brows creased.

 ** _Not necessarily. Pitch is connected to his nightmares, he'll sense if one of them is compromised. Like the time we chased one with Sandy, and then he suddenly showed up._** Jack looked down at his lap in thought. **_I don't think he's dumb enough to stay in the open if he knows his nightmare was seen._**

"...But how do we know that he knows?"

 ** _Just a feeling._** Jack groaned again.

What the hell was he supposed to do? If he goes to see Pitch and he isn't there, then there's the chance of getting caught by North--and making the man trust him even less--since he isn't supposed to leave. If he goes and Pitch is there, then there's still the same risk but, in addition, he'd be accused of betrayal. But if he stays, then he's going to drive himself crazy.

_**Come on, Jack. Aren't you all about taking risks?** _

"I can't. Not this time." An irritation was growing inside him.

_**You would have any other time.** _

"Well, I'm not this time."

**_But you know you want to._ **

"That's not the point."

 _ **What's the harm in going to see a friend? Being a Guardian doesn't mean you can't have friends other than the big four.**_ Jack growled.

"Don't you get it!" He shouted. "That's the reason I _can't_ leave! I'm not allowed to be friends with _him."_ Jack gripped his knees as he panted from his exertion. With another irritated groan, he glanced up and did a double take, almost jumping out of his skin and then accidentally slammed his head against the window.

"Oww." He complained, bringing his hands up to grip his pounding head.

_**You really need to stop doing that.** _

_Shut up._

A grunted sound of apology sounded before him and Jack looked up at the yeti who had startled him.

"Oh, uhh...hey, Phil." He said, giving a small forced smile. The yeti only stared at him. "Umm, what did you need?" Jack felt extremely awkward as the humanoid stared at him, it's eyes abnormally wide. Jack pursed his lips.

"Hmm...yeah," He said, slipping himself off of his seat and grabbing his staff. "I'm just gonna...gonna go." In an awkward sort of slide movement, Jack tried to slip past Phil, only to have the yeti stick an arm out to block him. He frowned.

"I'm just gonna go." He repeated, lifting the yeti's arm with his own. Jack began lifting himself with the breeze, only to be snatched out of the air and he suddenly found himself back on the window seat. He glared up at Phil, his mouth slightly agape.

"What are you doing?" The yeti huffed and then spoke gibberish while making wild gestures with it's hands as if Jack could understand him then grunted somewhat angrily. Jack only stared.

"Yeah, I didn't quite catch that." The creature sighed and just stared at him as it became awkwardly silent. Jack tried to step around him, but each time he did, Phil prevented him from leaving.

"Would you stop that!" He growled, rather fed up with this game.

_What the hell is up with this?_

**_Maybe North told it to make sure you don't leave._** Jack froze for a second as he registered the idea. It made sense since North didn't want him to leave, and why else would the yeti be trying to keep him under a strict guard? It was one thing that he was also a Guardian and yet the others were telling him that he had to stay here, but it was another thing to be told to stay and then have to have someone _make sure_ he stayed put. Did they really trust him so little? Jack was at the end of his rope.

"Alright, Phil," He said, crossing his arms with his staff in the crook of his elbow. "If you get out of my way right now, I won't freeze your face off." Phil only stared at him, Jack's brows grew dangerously thin as he contemplated his next move.

"Fine, you asked for it." With one swift movement, Jack sent a flurry of ice into the yeti's face. Using the confusion of the moment, he darted passed him and immediately towards the way out, feeling more than a bit suffocated by North's attempts to lock him up.

As he burst into the frigid arctic air, a feeling of uncertainty welled up inside him, but Jack quickly brushed it off as he made his final decision. Setting his route to Burgess, he urged the wind to carry him faster as he disappeared over the horizon.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 
> 
> ಠ_ಠ ugh 
> 
> The concept of writing is beyond my comprehension. Why is it so easy sometimes? Why do I get stuck in the stupidest of places? What am I even doing? Why do I add in these random little scenes that amount to nothing?
> 
> Who knows...
> 
> So anyway, I did get a little stuck on this because, like an idiot, I stopped in a random place and couldn't pick it back up. I did try to finish this chapter this weekend before the week started again (I figured since it was Labor Day weekend I could do it easily...wrong) but on Friday I ended up buying paint and repainted my room which took all of Saturday and then on Sunday I had to take the 45 min. drive into town to get some bills paid yadda yadda and so I finally thought on Sunday that I could finally finish it but just as I sat down and opened my laptop, I got a remind text from my Writing professor about our essays being due -_- so I had to finish that but OH MY LORD. I. HATE. NARRATIVES. I was stuck for HOURS. HOURS. Oh geez it was a nightmare ;-; but so here I am in Early American History...typing a Rise of the Guardians fanfiction...
> 
> XD stay lovely and hopefully the story really will pick up from here. I have plans! *sorry I know it's random and boring right now :0*
> 
> ~Sensei


	12. All's Fair In Love and War

He really had no idea how he'd ended up like this, his thin form shoved against a cold stone wall in Pitch's lair, sticking desperately to the shadows by a corner like glue.

Or, well, he knew how. The real matter was what.

In all honesty, it hadn't occurred to Jack what to do when he'd actually got to the Boogeyman's hide out. He was well aware of the danger it posed to his reputation on both sides, but he would be lying if he said that he'd actually thought up a plan before rushing out of North's workshop like some lovesick teenager. Now it would seem that it was too late to fabricate some form of execution, nor think of the consequences.

Just like he'd feared, the Guardians had gotten there first. The big four were scouting every inch of Pitch's tunnels and it took all of Jack's willpower to still his frantic heartbeat as he pushed himself closer to the wall.

"I'd say Pitch is gone but let us not underestimate enemy! He could still be here." Jack bit his lip in an attempt to distract himself as North's voice echoed throughout the dark chambers, his swords drawn. Ever since Jack had arrived, there was no sign of the Nightmare King anywhere, and although he was relieved that Pitch might have left before the Guardians had arrived, there was still the possibility that he was indeed still lurking around in the shadows, just like he was. Pitch's very being was made up of darkness, and so that meant he had the upper-hand. If the shade decided to catch the four unawares, then it was painfully obvious who would come out victorious, and that revelation was more than enough to ruffle Jack's nerves.

He wanted Pitch to thrive; he had become friends with the Nightmare King after all and didn't want to see him hurt again, but the Guardians were his friends too, and Jack knew Pitch wouldn't hold back like they had. He would kill them--spirits or not--he'd kill them, and Jack didn't know if he could stop him, or the Guardians for that matter.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw something move within the darkness; he whipped his head around to identify the object but saw nothing. His heart grew even more frantic, and he tried desperately to keep his quickened breathing quiet. Glancing around wildly, moving nothing but his eyes, Jack willed himself invisible as an eerie feeling poked fun at him.

_I-It was a trick of the eyes...there's nothing there...there's nothing..._

Taking in a quiet deep breath, Jack turned his gaze back to the Guardians from around the corner he was tucked behind, his body aching and stiff, but he ignored it; he dared not move.

"Pitch, get your arse out here, now!" Jack flinched slightly as Bunnymund shouted into the abyss, the Pooka's voice startling him. As the other's continued their search, Jack was suddenly aware of things darting to and fro within the shadows all around him, things that the Guardians couldn't see, but he began to _feel_ them as they whizzed by; silent whispers filtered by his ears and put him on edge. He was aware that the other's continued to speak but, as the rustling in the shadows grew restless, Jack was completely deaf to their voices; his fear gripped him and toyed with his insides. He began to feel light headed as feral instincts began to take over, and it took everything he had to keep himself locked in place. His muscles tensed, and he would have screamed as a pair of firm hands grabbed him if it were not for the digits covering his mouth; he was dragged into the very wall he had set himself against.

"How _kind_ of you to visit me, _Frost."_ Everything around him was solid blackness, and a pang of guilt echoed within his chest as the words were spat at him; venom was sunk within each syllable. Pitch was upset with him. _Very_ upset with him, and although fear threatened to swallow him whole, Jack was somewhat relieved that the Boogeyman was hurt, even if it was all his fault. That meant he had at least meant _something_  to the shade, and was not just an annoyance that was good to be rid of.

"I'm sorry," Jack said dejectedly, not bothering to stand as he sat on his knees in the darkness. "I know I left without saying goodbye."

"Left?" Pitch growled, his voice twisting all around Jack. "You disappeared _,_ for God's sake!" The darkness parted suddenly, light flooding in and revealing the Nightmare King's infuriated scowl. Jack swallowed hard and said nothing as the man looked down at him dangerously. "And without a goodbye?" Pitch scoffed. "You didn't say _anything._ No goodbye, no warning, no, 'Hey, I'm just going to have nothing to do with you now!' Just, poof, and you're fucking _gone!"_ The man was shouting, and Jack didn't know what to say.

"I-I..."

"And to make matters _worse."_ He inched closer. "When you finally decide to show up after _weeks_ of your vanishing act, you bring along your goddamn pity party to ridicule me!" Pitch reached down and suddenly wrapped his knuckles in the front of Jack's hoodie and pulled him forcibly off the ground.

"I'm sorry!" Jack frantically said in protest, but Pitch wasn't listening.

"What the _hell_ are you trying to accomplish with these _tricks?"_ Intense, betrayed gold met fearful cerulean, and Jack could feel the other's exasperated breath on his neck. A pulse of fear shot through him, followed by a shiver of excitement. He'd never been _this_  close to Pitch before. Never close enough to feel the man's _breath._     

  Jack knew he was probably about to be killed, but right now he really, _really_ couldn't help staring at thin, grey lips and imagining just how soft they'd be against his own chapped ones. He knew he should probably try to explain to Pitch that he was avoiding him because he needed time to sort out his thoughts, not because he was plotting against him. Not because he was trying to bring the Guardians here.

  But because he'd finally begun to realize that he was _madly_  in love with him. 

  Would Pitch even believe him? Even if he did there's no way he'd like him back. He'd just gone and pissed in the Boogeyman's cheerios, of course he didn't love him. If anything, he probably hated him. 

  But he really just couldn't stop _staring_...

  Pitch was forming words, probably cursing at him. Telling him how much of a screw up he was and how much he hated him. That was okay. That was enough for him. Because Pitch was here and suddenly Jack realised that it was all so _real._ He could touch him; he could feel his knuckles laced in his hoodie. Feel his breath and his warmth that seemed to radiate off of him like death off of a pile of corpses. And the analogy fit the man so perfectly; his anger would have been contagious if Jack's rationality wasn't so thoroughly disabled by just being in the man's presence. He'd never noticed how much of an impact Pitch had on him.

  And he never noticed until he'd already leaned closer and put his pale pink lips to furious grey ones.  
  


 


	13. For the Best

He was angry. He felt deceived. Infuriated that Jack had dared to lead the Guardians right to him just when he'd thought maybe he could begin tolerating him. Thought that maybe they could be, at the very least, frenemies. In the end, it was all just a trick.

Yes, just a silly game to him. Just a game to Jack. That's what all of this was. That's all anything ever was to him.

And he was angry. He was yelling at Jack, not quite sure what he was saying, but knew he was demanding answers. Asking _why._

But then Jack was kissing him. And that brought up a whole new plethora of unanswered questions.

Yet, although he knew it was just a silly game--a stupid _joke--_ Pitch found himself unable to pull away. And it made his heart bleed at the revelation.

He loved Jack. There was no denying it now, but this wasn't serious to him. Pitch was just a plaything to him, and no matter how much he would love him, Jack would never love him in return.

It seemed like years before Jack finally pulled away, and Pitch found himself wanting the chilled lips to return, despite the fact that it was, in all ways possible, a very sloppy--clearly virgin--peck on the lips. He kept his eyes low, wanting not to meet the intense blue-eyed, quizzical stare that was giving him goosebumps. It was painfully silent, and Pitch couldn't help but grimace as a thousand thoughts raced through his mind faster than he could understand any of them.

"Pitch?" Jack's almost whisper broke the silence and a panic built up inside of him. It took all of his willpower not to scream as his chest felt heavy and his mind threatened to overwhelm him. Pitch couldn't speak. He was terrified of what would happen if he did, so he just kept his gaze averted from the boy still laced in his grasp.

"Pitch?" Jack tried again with the same softness, but the Nightmare King only dropped him nonchalantly, causing Jack to stumble back a bit. Pitch could still feel those cold eyes fixated on him, waiting for an answer, but Pitch could not give him one. He didn't quite understand the question.

What was Jack playing at? Why had he betrayed him? They weren't entirely on the same side to begin with, but he'd thought Jack had trusted him. He was the one who broke his defenses. He was the one who always came bounding back to him like a mutt back to it's master. And, in the end, he was the one who had led the Guardians here, the one who will, once again, be his undoing.

But he was also the one who had kissed him.

"I-I'm sorry for not leaving without saying goodbye,"

"Don't." Pitch cut him off before he could continue.

"But I don't want you to misunderstand, I mean I just--"

"I said enough!" His hands were clenched into fists, an uncertainty strong enough to make him nauseous settling in his stomach as he snapped at the boy. He looked Jack in the eyes and saw confusion, and that only did more to fuel Pitch's rage.

"Leave." He growled but Jack only stared at him in shock. "I said leave!" He shouted suddenly, and Jack bolted, the wall behind him dissolving into shadow and opening up. Jack tripped over himself, the fear that Pitch had woven within him leaving him blind until he fumbled into the other Guardians. The four stood ready, almost seeming shocked to see Jack, but Pitch ignored it. The frost sprite stared up at him with a hurt expression and, amongst the anger and resentment inside him, a slight twinge of sorrow panged almost nonexistently.

Pitch stepped forward--two steps dangerously slow--the shadows growing upon the walls as he did. The chamber was submerged in a glowing darkness; It neither obscured nor allowed one to see. It was something in the middle of fear and uneasy comfort but, Pitch knew, anyone could probably sense the despair mixed in with the anger that threatened to swallow him. A dangerous anger; the quiet kind of frustration and confusion. The other's were ready to kill him, ready to end his miserable existence, and he couldn't care otherwise.

He sought the company of lonesomeness, something he thought he'd never wish for.

"Go." He spoke, almost softly and yet full of venom after a long moment of drawn out silence.

"We ain't just gonna leave! We're gonna put you down like the dog you are!" Pitch scoffed.

Because the rabbit's threats really couldn't hurt him as much as Jack's sorrowful, questioning eyes.

_He deserves it._ But Pitch glanced away, unable to meet Jack's stare.

While he was distracted, out of the corner of his eye, Pitch saw the rabbit move for his boomerangs and instantly whipped back around with his scythe ready to be summoned but, as the rabbit charged, Jack stood and threw himself at Bunnymund.

"No!" He shouted, and Pitch scowled as he stepped back away from them, trying to use the moment to disappear into the darkness but before he could summon his shadows, a cold hand grabbed his wrist and pulled him from the cloud of sand. He stumbled and suddenly he found himself peering into tear obscured, crystal blue eyes, cloudy like a frozen lake and dappled with white flakes of snow. Jack was clutching desperately to his wrist with both of his hands, and the guardians were glaring daggers, ready to attack. Ready to _kill..._

Both of them.

"Stop this." Jack spoke, his voice shaky and uncertain and his eyes gleaming with unborn tears, "Just stop." Pitch glanced back and forth between Jack and the Guardians and suddenly he was struck with a sense of worry. He was greedy, there was no denying that. He wanted Jack. He deserved Jack more than they ever had. He wanted to take him, lock him away where the Guardians--nor the blasted moon--could ever find him. But that wasn't the reality. Jack wanted to be found, and there's nothing that he could do to change that, especially now, since the sprite was trying to get him found too. Pitch mentally scoffed.

"Jack," Pitch looked down at him as he spoke in an angry conflicted whisper, "What are you doing? You brought them here. Why are you doing this now?" Pitch paused, and Jack seemed confused. "We promised to keep this a secret so are you betraying me? Is that it? Do you hate me now? Want me dead?" Pitch glared at him.

"But I didn't," The boy's grip on his wrist tightened, "I didn't lead them here." Pitch froze. "North followed your nightmare, and I tried to get here before they did, but North tried to keep me at the workshop. I promise, I really, really didn't do it, I swear." Tears ran down and froze over Jack's cheeks as he pleaded in desperation. "I didn't." Pitch's heart ached.

God, what was he supposed to do? Here he had the most adorably attractive boy he'd ever seen crying and practically begging him to forgive him for something he didn't even do. To make matters worse, he was clutching to him like some maiden and the fear that radiated off of him was the fear that Pitch would walk away if he released him. Oh hell, it tasted so sweet, and The anger he had felt just drained away.

"Release me." He whispered, afraid of what he might do if Jack continued to cling to him. The boy only shook his head.

"N-No." He sniffled, "I won't." Pitch groaned.

"Jack, you really need to let me go." A part of him knew, even if it pained him, that he wasn't what Jack needed. He wasn't what was best for _Jack._ Even if he didn't want him to, even if he wanted to steal him away and laugh at the moon and the Guardians and anyone who told him he could never have what he wanted, he knew Jack needed to let go. Pitch would soil him if he didn't.

He loved his snow drizzled blue eyes and his bright happy smile, his porcelain skin and his rosy cheeks. He loved the way Jack teased him even if he pretended he hated it. He loved the way he tousled his hair when he was nervous and how the boy found a way to fall asleep in the middle of impossible situations. He adored Jack's obsession with ice cream and how he always found a way to make a mess of himself, and he was obsessed with the soft playfulness of the sprite's voice.

He loved Jack, and it killed him every time he remembered that the boy _couldn't_ be his. The darkness would ruin him. _He_ would ruin him, and that was why he had to stay away.

"I can't. I can't let you run." Jack was weeping by this point and Pitch could feel the boy shake as he took in ragged breaths. "Please," He begged, and Pitch stared at him dumbfounded as he grabbed the black cloth of his robe, still clutching his wrist, "I don't want to be alone."

And Pitch couldn't take it anymore.

He grabbed the sides of Jack's face and kissed him hard, the intoxicating smell of the boy flooding into his mind and driving him crazy. Pitch would have laughed as very audible sounds of shock and protest came from the Guardians, but at that moment, he couldn't care less what they had to say. All he cared about was Jack and how the boy slowly started kissing him back.

But Pitch knew that this couldn't happen. He was the antagonist; the enemy. No amount of mixed feelings or so called, "love" could change that. He was darkness while Jack was light; one could not exist without the other and yet one could also not live without chasing the other away.

So, with no amount of reluctance, he placed his hands on Jack's chest, and as he ended the kiss, he pushed Jack away and vanished into the darkness hoping that what he was doing was for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 
> 
> Je pleure tous les jours. ;-; C'est tres triste.
> 
> I realise that Jack cries a lot XD I guess he is a bit more sappy in this, but he does actually cry a lot in the movie poor bebi (sort of...not really full on crying but you can see tears in his eyes at several points) ;-; so I interpret that as emotionally sensitive even though he puts up a tough front. In this I want it to be like Pitch just totally breaks down his facade and he can't help but let go. Make sense? Probably not but I hope he isn't too terribly out of character...
> 
> Hope you enjoyed though XD  
> Don't forget to comment please :D  
> <3 I love feedback  
> I know I suck; lay it on me!
> 
> Stay lovely  
> I love you all  
> ~Sensei :3


	14. Old Wounds and Bright Ideas

  It wasn't the near rejection that hurt the most. It wasn't the critical glares that he could feel on the back of his neck, and it wasn't the way that Pitch had pushed him away so abruptly.

  It was the sudden realisation that he was alone that had ripped out his heart. It was the lingering feeling of Pitch's warm lips and the feeling of the other's breath that was nothing more than a memory. 

  Jack was alone. He'd always been alone and he was a fool to ever think otherwise. 

  And now all there was left to do was stare at the emptiness.

  Why? Why had it ended up like this? If he were someone else, a girl perhaps, would it have turned out differently? If he wasn't a Guardian? If he wasn't _Jack Frost?_   He'd thought that maybe Pitch would have accepted him. He thought that Pitch understood him. He didn't know what to think anymore, and it was all his fault. He chose to come. He chose to lie to the Guardians about their friendship, and now he was paying the price.

  But that was okay. He deserved it, after all, and he knew that Pitch felt the same. 

  Bunnymund was shouting some nonsense that Jack didn't care to hear. It was about him and how he was a traitor or something of the like, no doubt. North wasn't saying much except for trying to calm Bunny down, and Sandy never spoke anyway, so when Tooth suddenly flew next to him and grabbed his shoulder softly, Jack was a bit surprised. He said nothing. 

  "Jack," She began, and he rather wished that he wasn't there at all, "Jack, let's go." He could feel the awkwardness in her voice and a part of him hoped that Bunny would just kill him. End this ridiculous crush and these petty, unimportant squabbles between them that always seemed to somehow revolve around Jack's stupidity. Never in all of his life had he felt so pathetic.

He kept his head hung low as Tooth led him out, not really paying attention to where and not noticing how the others got deathly quiet as he walked passed. He suddenly found himself in the sleigh, and before he realised it, they were all in the air, headed towards North's workshop.

\---

  Months had passed. A long, long time. Seemed like years but, no, it was only months. 

  The others thought he was over it by now. Oh, but how they were wrong. Not over but rather wrapped up and tangled in between only, this time, he wasn't going to whine. He planned on fixing this. He was tired of the darkness--which in no way whatsoever included Pitch--and so he planned on remedying it, and he was going to do it the only way he knew how. With a change of attitude, an almost genuine uplift in his point of view and a somewhat happy smile to mask the pain.

  Perfection. Or as good as it was getting anyway. 

  Like an interminable loop, the weather was inching back to cold. Slowly but surely dropping in temperature and bringing with it all that Jack called himself. Plaid scarfs, thick coats, a single pair of mittens for two, steaming cups of cocoa, Christmas carols--oh what fun! But Jack had other things to do rather than take rides in a one horse open sleigh. He had a plan. Or, not really a plan as much as an idea, but he was busy searching for his saving grace: An excuse, and a Christmas present fit for a king.

  It was almost diabolical! Of course, in a joyful, nonthreatening way whatsoever...

  Nevertheless, it needed to be perfect. The only problem being, Jack was about as far from perfect minded as you could get. He was happy with the simple things, and besides, his tastes were totally different from Pitch's. In all honesty, getting him a Christmas present wasn't the _smartest_  idea that Jack's had flutter though his mind over the past months, but it was the one with the highest chance of possible success. If you count probably getting killed for a second time and reopening old, deep, retched, infected wounds, and this time, without even achieving your initial goal as a high chance of success, then yes, he was definitely going to come out on top this time. But this was the only chance he could get to _really_  patch things up. And not just between him, but between all of them.

  After all, who didn't need a little fun every now and then?

  Quickly wiping the wicked smile from his face as he aproached the workshop, Jack landed gracefully in a small mound of snow, tossing around in the flakes a bit as he prepared himself for the heat he knew to be inside. Upon entering, North was the first to see him.

  "Jack! You have returned."

  "Indeed I have!" He couldn't help but smile as he brought his crook up to rest on his shoulder. Soon the fighting would end and with it, this silly crush. Or so he hoped...

  "I'm glad to see you feel better." Jack kept his smile but it faultered just a bit at North's concern.

  Ever since they'd found out--after they finally got Bunny to calm down--all of the others made it some kind of secrect creed that stated they had to treat him like a chronically ill cancer patient or something of the like. Quite frankly, it made Jack uncomfortable, like they were looking down at him but in a sympathetic way. It seemed to him as if they thought he was recovering from some traumatic experience. As if loving Pitch was equivalent to some incurable disease...

  "Yeah, better than ever." A pause. "Hey, North. Before I go, I actually have a question." The older man seemingly perked up at this.

  "Of course." Jack paused, not quite sure how to phrase it.

  "So there's this uh, new guy...in Burgess. Just moved in. Jamie was telling me about him."

  _Yeah, sure a, 'new' guy._

"A new guy?"

  "Uhh, yeah. But ya see, it's like the man has no family in the area and he's a real loner. Always down in the dumps, so to speak."

  _Literal dumps._ He had to stop himself from laughing.

  "Yes..."

  "But I was thinking, 'What could I do to cheer this guy up?' I just can't stand seeing him all sad all the time. So I thought for a bit and I've decided to make his Christmas a great one." North smiled a bit and Jack got into it for the drama. "The prettiest snow! I could make some ice scultures and the kids could help me with the lights! It'll be awesome!" He paused, staring at the air as he took a moment to imagine the wonderous sight.

  "And?" Jack shook his head.

  "And what?"

  "What is question, Jack."

  "Oh, oh right. My question. I don't know what to get him.  As a present, I mean." North frowned in thought.

  "Hmm, yes." He mumbled, rubbing his beard. "Present. Well what is man like?" Jack was taken aback.

  "What's he, uhh, what's he like?" He chuckled nervously. "Well, he's...he's tall. And...dark...?"

  _And handsome._ He motioned his hands in a circle, hoping that North wouldn't catch on.

  "Not appearance. What is personality! What is he like? What _does_ he like?" Jack stopped.

  What did Pitch like? Pitch's personality...

  "Uhh, he likes...horses?"

  _Ugh, that was stupid, Jack. What the heck..._ He mentally slapped himself.

  "Horses?"

  "Yeah, well I guess. I'm not all too sure if I'm being honest." Jack swallowed hard.

  "Then why don't you get to know him. See what is like to be him. What he enjoys." He thought for a moment, his happy demeanor of the day suddenly not as bright.

  "I can't." He admitted. North frowned.

  "How come?"

  "Because, he uhh..." Jack looked away, not sure what was keeping him from saying it. It would be better soon, right? What was the big deal?

  "He can't see me." He choked out finally.

  _He doesn't want to see me._ What he really meant.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \---  
> A/N
> 
> Oh. My. Sweet. Mercy.
> 
> Guys. How loooooooong? Just--
> 
> How? What happened?? -0-' what is with me...?
> 
> I would say I'm sorry but I'd be lying, because there were days when I thought, "hey you could write that!" but then I said, "Nah." So I KNEW the consequences of not writing and so now I take your wrath without the luxury of apology. I can't be sorry for something I intentionally did. Lay it on me, I am prepared for repercussions.
> 
> BUT. I do want to graciously thank you all for waiting so patiently. I know I'm an ass. 
> 
> As far as the story goes. I have decided to take it on a slight twist as you may have noticed. :3 It was getting no where and just darker plus Jack was getting out of character so I'll fix it!! *dun duh dun duh duuuuuuun!* *victory trumpet*
> 
> Anyway, stay so so lovely and I hope I can see you soon. But WARNING: it might be a while yet till the next update because it's Nano Wrimo month next month so I'm working on my novel for that...
> 
> Love you always,  
>  Feran-Sensei ❄


	15. Say You Love Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :0 poor bebi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT; HAVE SOME GOODIES THAT I DREW AT THE END T_T *If I can figure this the hell out o.o*

He stared up into the abyss of shadow with yet another sigh on his lips and a bleeding hole in his heart. Being the king of all things dark and unholy sort of meant that he was accustomed to the fickle thing called depression, the unwanted friend known as anxiety, and the replaying guilt of regret, but he'd have to admit that he hadn't felt heartbreak in a long, _long_ time. The last time he could recall were the final few moments he spent as Kozmotis.

That feeling still haunted him, and he expected this one would too for the rest of perpetuity just the same. What luck.

If he claimed he wasn't tired, he'd be the king of all lies--not that he wasn't already--because, truthfully, he was far past a state of lassitude. He had simply stayed in bed for the past months, getting up only for a few hours everyday just to realise that anything and everything was utterly pointless and that the prospect of sleeping seemed so much more entertaining. Not that it offered any true respite since the only thing it brought was nightmares.

And regret,  and guilt, and more regret, and remorse, and self-loathing, oh and even more regret.

He was a mess.

Jack, Jack, Jack, and Jack--that's all he contemplated, all he spoke of, all he _dreamt_ about.

All he needed.

And if it seemed rather redundant, he couldn't admit that he'd noticed. Everyday felt the same, so much so that he couldn't tell one from the other. Everything blurred together into one inexplicable imbroglio that was set to replay like some broken record; Jack never left his mind, the pain of infeasible _what-ifs_ nailed into the forefront of his heart and soul, no premise of fading with the passing of time that seemed so adamantly stagnant.

And he never in his thousand years of life thought that anything could hurt so damn much.

Rolling onto his side, cradling his head with one arm, Pitch closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He knew that he was the only one to be blamed. He was the one, after all, who'd pushed Jack away and vanished; he was the one who'd made that final decision, but he kept asking himself how it could've been different. Perhaps he had been too hasty in finalising his choice? Gods above, did it feel like it.

"There has to be a way..." He breathed softly into the cloth of his robes, his brows beginning to ache from being knit together for so long. Perhaps there was a chance, albeit a bit small, that he could make this work. Maybe there was something he could do---a plan he could devise--that could ease Jack back to him.

But, no. He knew the Guardians would not be so foolish this time around; they would never leave the boy alone with him, especially after that stunt he pulled. And, besides, he was forgetting that Jack was only playing with him. There was no love in that cold heart of his.

The truth of the matter hurt more, it seemed, each time he remembered. Ideas would swirl in his head, a false sense of hope would swell his ribcage, but each time optimism seemed to brush his fingertips, reality would smash him back into the hole that he had so pathetically dug.

Huffing angrily to himself--which came out more like a wounded sigh--he threw his legs over the side of the bed, the stone floor cold through the feet of his pants. He sat there for a moment, staring at the dirt that had swamped his lair, always clinging to everything ever since he'd been defeated. A path of it was cleared where he'd gotten up on previous days, the grime having been swept away by his coattails, leaving the end of the cloth grubby and covered in filth. Normally, he supposed, he would have been rather infuriated at the waste of a perfectly good robe, only now he didn't really have the energy to care much.

He stared at the soiled stone, debating whether or not he truly wanted to get up and, honestly, that thought made him feel more than just a bit pathetic.

"Why am I such a dumbass? And why can't I just get over this stupid, futile, ignorant--" But what was this really? The thought struck him as odd. He loved Jack, there was no denying that, but what was he supposed to call this? A crush? One-sided feelings? Unrequited love? But no.

This was an obsession.

Growling under his breath and shaking his head as if to dispel the outrageous veracity, he awkwardly rose from his bed, trembling as he exerted himself to stay upright. These past few weeks he'd been extraordinarily feeble and somewhat lamed; he was feeling old, in all honesty, and he'd like to believe that getting over this impossible crush, fixation, _obsession--_ whatever it was--and getting back to his normal routine self would fix this, but he knew that it was more that, even if it pained him to admit it.

Pitch was dying, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Well, not in the condition he was in, anyway, but he'd just pushed away his only chance of ever saving himself. Yes, Jack was ecstatic when he'd realised Pitch was still around to annoy; he was so very glad that the Guardians hadn't killed him off, but Pitch had always known that he was getting weaker despite the miniscule amounts of fear that still lingered. Like Jack, he'd thought once that it would've been enough, but he supposed now that it was just another silly trick that his love sick mind had played, all in an effort to get closer to the one thing that was paving the road to his demise, and now he was  _starving._  Pitch had assumed that Jack would've cared. Of course, he was wrong about that in the end, wasn't he?

Having completely spaced out and ignored where his feet were taking him, he was a bit aghast when he felt a shock of frigid cold shoot through his toes. Snapping out of his daze, he was taken aback by the sight that befell him.

Snow. Pure white, sparkling, freshly fallen snow, and it was in his lair. Stepping back and looking around wildly, his heart thundered in his ears.

_Jack?_ He had tried to say, but the sudden wave of adrenaline that took him clenched around the name and made it die in his throat. But there was no sign of the sprite anyway, only darkness.

"Jack?" He finally vocalised, but the only reply he received was the hollow whispering of the wind and the quickly fading echo of his own voice. A shiver ran down his spine and he started as cold precipitation fell on the back of his neck. Lifting his eyes skyward, an overwhelming heaviness suddenly came upon him.

Of course, there was no Jack Frost. There was no one, as he should have known, just a simple hole that had settled itself into the dirt of the high ceiling, snow wriggling its way through and raining down upon him. It pooled out onto the floor into an elegant, frosty heap of white misery. Pitch's chest tightened as he clenched his teeth, eyes burning.

"Oh, but I am a fool." He sank to his knees, too weak to stand, the hot flush of angry, abandoned tears breaking out over ashen cheeks. His clothes became soaked, melted snow absorbing into the dark cloth and frosting over as he sat there silently weeping, droplets falling from his face and forming thin hollows in the mounds of snow. He stared at his hands from behind blurry eyes; he clenched his knuckles in the flurry, almost loosing all sensation as his hands started to become numb, and his voice came out in a low, broken whisper.

"Please," He beseeched the frozen rain, heart aching, "Please. Say you love me." But all that could be heard were the sorrowful wails of the mournful wind.

\---

FANART TIME :D

 

Love you guys.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> dsfjdfoiarjgipfcmsd;f.jd j;sdlfj;dfj;sdljf
> 
> AHHHHHHHHHHHHH
> 
> *death*
> 
> Holy fucking garbage, please end me. I think I know how to incorporate the summary/ original plot(?) now. Thank you really unnecessary, really depressing, really exhausted Pitch. 
> 
> I haven't written on this in like a year, oml. I am so sorry that you had to read any of the garbage that came before this because it was so bad. Not that my writing isn't still garbage, but it is SO much better than it was then. Like, please burn it. XD
> 
> You all most likely want to kill me, so I'll shut up now and HEYO I know what imma write next chapter!~ (was gonna be this one but I decided nope :P)
> 
> Anyway, as an apology of sorts, I drew ( yes, I drew :D) some fan art and you can gander at it. Sorry for the long ass wait, but I did say that I was, like, a sloth when it comes to updates, especially when I drop out of the fandom for a while. T_T I BLAME STAR TREK!! Stupid Spones.... XD
> 
> But I really do love you guys, even though I torture you. <3 Stay wonderful, and thank you from the bottom of my heart for putting up with my bullshit! I don't deserve you.


	16. If Only You Could Hear It

"Do you think he'd like some kind of clothing?"

" _Chirp_."

"Yeah, no. You're right. He wears shadows, of course he doesn't need new clothes...but then again his robes were looking pretty worn out..."

" _Chirp chirp?"_

"Would he even wear something we got him? Oh...but that is a good point..." Jack groaned, marking out the short lived idea before dropping the pen and rubbing at his eyes. "I don't even know his fashion sense well enough to get him any clothing anyway."

" _Chirp..."_ Baby Tooth was the only other in Jack's quaint attic room. She was perched on his shoulder, looking down at his scribbled out piece of paper.

"I don't know if robes counts as a fashion sense, Baby Tooth. I mean, that would be like saying he'd wear _any_ robe just because it's a _robe."_ Jack, sitting at a small, round table that he had moved in at the start of his Christmas quest, picked up his pen and doodled a tall, thin figure in an elegant gown. "Even something...pink and frilly..." He was trying not to laugh--to stay focused--but it was hard to keep a straight face while imagining Pitch strut around in a princess gown. After a moment, Jack took a deep breath.

"Thanks for understanding this by the way, Baby Tooth, and promising not to tell the others. I know Pitch was a real jerk to you, but...he's changed, for whatever that's worth." With a soft sigh, Jack crumpled up the sheet in front of him and nonchalantly tossed it over his shoulder. It was another paper wad to add to the plethora of other discarded ideas.

In all honesty, Jack was starting to doubt the effectiveness of this plan. It wasn't as though he had time to come up with something else, but he was starting to wonder whether or not he could really pull it off. He never knew getting a christmas gift for someone was so hard...

Crossing his arms, Jack put his head down on the desk, positioning his face to the side so that he could stare out the tall windows where the outside world was dark and obscured by shadow. Polar night had seized the arctic for about three days so far, and so Jack had a small, melted down candle at the very edge of his desk; it was close enough to cast light upon his work, but far enough away so that it wasn't making him anxious.

The golden light flickered, lashing out at the darkened world, struggling to stay alive. The flame's dance only served to thicken the shadows though--not banish them--and it cast fluid images against the walls and reflected in the clear glass. Every now and then the flame would crackle and let out a small whine as though on the verge of being vanquished; it would die down, almost to the point of nonexistence, right before it would spring back to life with sudden, newfound vigour. And, as absolutely absurd as it was, the flame reminded him of himself in a way. Always dying down just to come back, taking on an impossible quest--whether it was defeating shadows or getting the perfect gift--and constantly fighting the darkness yet ultimately being pointless without it.

Because what was the use of a candle in a fully lit room? What was the point of a Guardian with nothing to be wary of?

What was Jack without Pitch?

He'd still be a wandering spirit if not for him. He'd still be alone and afraid, but for all the wrong reasons. It was a little ironic to say that Pitch had helped to ease his fears, but doing so had just replaced them with new ones. Yes, Jack was still terrified, but he was no longer scared of never being seen; he was afraid, now, that he wasn't going to be able to see Pitch again.

Jack had opened one of the windows, the glass tapping slightly against the wall as the restless wind fluttered in, caressing his cheeks as it passed then slipping hurriedly back into the veil of night. Pushing his seat back and standing, baby tooth chirp questioningly and flew from his hood as he approached the opening and placed his hand lightly on the glass then leaned against the frame, breathing deep. He closed his eyes, feeling the crisp coolness play through his hair; the wind whistled, groaning as it reverberated through unseen icy trenches and hollows. The window squeaked softly as it hit against the wall.

_Tap. Tap._

The candle crackled and beat against the breeze, loose pages fluttering to the ground and rustling as they tumbled upon one another.

_Pages._

His eyes snapped open, his view the same as before, only now the darkness seemed much less lonely somehow; Jack had an idea.

"I've got it!" He whipped around, startling the poor fairy as he snatched her out of the air and placed her bavk on his shoulder. Grabbing his staff and tapping it against the floor, in one fluid movement he bolted for the sky.

\---

**_Now, I don't know about you, but all of this lazing about is staring to bore me._** Pitch groaned and rubbed his face, the shadows around him mumbling in his ears. **_I mean, I know you're dying and all, but can't you do something other than make a glass of tea?_**

"If you don't like it, go bother someone else." It was always so infuriating, this part of him. It had a mind if it's own; it did what it wanted when it wanted and god knew it never listened to damn thing he said. In all honesty, though, it really was a creature all on it's own, with no form or figure, only shadow: inky, black, and viscous.

_**But I've already bothered someone else. My go to bother buddy is currently occupied.**_ It said somewhat wounded and with a huff. Pitch had no idea what it did when he wasn't around, but he was sure he didn't care. He thought that it too would start to fade as he got weaker, but here it remained just as impertinent and just as annoying.

_I guess it's just a part of fear like the grass is of the Earth._ With a soft sigh, Pitch rose unsteadily from his black leather sofa, slowly making his way to his teatop as per his routine of the last few weeks.

**_You see? Is that all you can do? Drink tea and mope?_ **

"Is all you can do pester me and ask stupid questions?" It huffed again but said nothing.

Reaching up into his cabinet to pull out his tea cup--which resided on the top shelf--he cursed his lack of powers as he had steadily grown shorter. Not by much, but the difference was certainly infuriating at times like these.

_**How pathetic.**_ It mumbled, but Pitch ignored it. **_You know, It's your fault I'm here anyway._** He finally got a hold of the cup, shakily pulling it down; it clacked against the porcelain plate as he held it by his fingertips. **_I could be off pestering Jack, but you had to rub off on him._**

At the mention of the boy's name, Pitch's heart skipped a nervous beat, his mind jumbling together in a sudden trainwreck of new questions. He hesitated, and the cup hit the ground, smashing to pieces, before he had even thought to breathe.

**_Oh, look at you; such a mess. Well, at least it was something new._ **

"Jack?" He questioned, ignoring the shattered china.

_**Hmm?** _

"You said you could be bothering Jack?" Pitch's brows narrowed, not liking where this was going. He never did trust this thing.

**_Oh, yes. Jack is an absolute joy, you know. So fun to tease! He thinks I'm a part of him, some form of his subconscious._** It let out a dark, gruttal laugh that made Pitch's stomach churn. He knew the mind games this thing could play; it had manipulated him long ago before he figured out that it was not of himself but something on it's own entirely. He loathed to think what it had done to Jack...

_**You know, Jack's fears are the easiest to play with. The boy is so gullible. He's grown out of that a bit, but when I first found him he was awful.**_ Pitch's breathing quickened, a hot anger swelling inside him.

"You leave him alone. Don't you touch him."

**_Jealous, are we?_** Then again that laugh, as if it were multiple voices all at once echoing and mocking each other, some so quiet they were but whispers. _**You know something, Pitchiner? He has nightmares just like you.**_ A deep sorrow panged inside him. He gripped the counter, his rage only heightening.

"That. Is _no_ t. My name."

**_How's it feel to be suffocated by darkness, hmm? Is it thrilling? Exciting?_ **

" _Stop."_

**_I know Jack knows. I've made sure of that._** He snapped his head up as the voice channelled into a single focal point. The darkness morphed and suddenly inky eyes were staring back at him. Deep, black skin and hair the colour of coal. Just a shape--nothing more--no detail, no seperate strands of hair, no irises.

But it looked just like Jack.

"What have you done to him?" He hissed, low and quiet in a state of disbelief.

_**What do you mean, Pitch?** _

"What have you _done_ to _Jack?"_

**_But I'm right here, can't you see?_** The figure grinned a wide, evil grin before it sank to the ground, almost like smoke, and vanished with a wild fit of chuckles.

Pitch let out a small, frustrated sob, wishing that'd he'd just die already, knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop it.

\---

*More fan art because I love you*

      

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \---  
> A/N   
> The title for this one plays off the last chapter's title :D
> 
> Have no idea about this demon thingy but I felt like I had to keep it going or it would be a sort of loose end >:3 I kinda like it though; he's (?) Kinda cool. And btw, I've never read the books (T_T somebody please gimme (jk) but I wanna read them so bad.) But I have read a lot of stuff about stuff and I just sjosjwnsos love it. Bill Joyce is great and he responds to fan comments on instagram. AKA: He's Jesus in disguise. #mysuperhero
> 
> Gosh, I have a headache. Poor bebi Pitch tho T_T I love him. Which reminds me: I have more fan art for you.


End file.
